


Two Mothers

by Russell_Craig



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-12 20:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 93,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11169063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Russell_Craig/pseuds/Russell_Craig
Summary: Years after a Faceless Man all but handed her Seven Kingdoms, the same woman returns to give Daenerys the only thing her life was missing.





	1. Chapter 1

When she was a girl, just weeks before King Robert rode to Winterfell and changed everything, Arya accompanied her father to the Weirwood tree. After they both took time to pray to the Old Gods, Ned removed his sword from the scabbard and began sharpening it. The young girl's eyes watched with rapt attention. She'd love a sword like that, one to call her own.

They sat together while the sun fell, the moon rose and with it thousands of tiny stars dotted the sky. Ned set the blade aside and pointed out the various constellations he knew. "Everyone has a purpose, Arya, a path," he told her, still looking up. "Every man, and every woman has a destiny, one decided by the Gods before they are born. It's written in the stars." He shook his head and Arya noticed that his eyes looked different, as though he was recalling something from long ago. "A person can fight against their destiny, but they'll never win. Fate will get its way, no matter how desperately we resist."

Like all the things her father told her back then, Arya was quick to believe. If he said the fates of men were written in the sky, then it was so. She didn't have even a moment of doubt. Then she'd been nothing more than a clueless little girl, incapable of protecting herself, and her family, powerless to stop the horrors waiting for them in the South. Still, despite all that her younger self did not know, Arya envied her. Timid, helpless and naive as she was, that girl still had a family, her father still lived, and she was blind to how horrid life was about to become for all of them.

It was rare that the Faceless Man who had once been Arya Stark thought about her past. To become the best assassin she could, she imprisoned her former self in a cage, locked the memories down deep in the most private part of her mind and avoided all things that might remind her. Now, years after arriving in Braavos with nothing but a coin, and her hate she could go weeks without remembering she had once been a noble Stark. Taking advantage of the magic bestowed on her by the God of Death himself she rarely wore her own face, even when she wasn't serving Him. For reasons she didn't want to examine too thoroughly, she found it easier to live without seeing a Stark's face in every reflection.

Tonight, she wore her true face, just as she'd done for almost a year. In that time, she'd gone from Braavos to Lys and then to Westeros. She arrived in the Riverlands weeks ago, and decided to stay. The choice seemed wise now. At her feet three people were huddled around her, assessing the damage.

A sharp pain pulled her from her thoughts and instinctively she reached down toward the source. When she pulled her hand back, the thin calloused fingers were wet with fresh blood.

A strong pair of hands pushed her flat onto the table and urged her to remain still. As another swell of pain crested she cursed in a language the others wouldn't understand. She was no stranger to pain, but this felt entirely different, likely because it was.

Her mind wandered and her vision blurred. Closing her eyes, she thought back to her father and the Weirwood tree. Was this her destiny? Was the path she'd been walking for years the one the Gods chose for her? She honestly didn't know. As a child, she was certain her father's word was true, but the woman that child grew into was cynical, too hardened by the world to believe in fantasy.

Was it her destiny to kill? If so she'd fulfilled it and then some. She'd slaughtered hundred and hundreds of men, likely thousands although she made no attempt to keep count. First, she killed to survive, as a wandering orphan, and then the Hound's captive. After passing under the Titan she learned to kill for other reasons; for coin, to consolidate power, or curry favor. For years, she was the eager disciple, learning the Art of Death like a Maester learns to heal.

Her clouded mind fought to reconcile the things she allowed herself to remember. If her father was right then her destiny was decided long before that night in the forest, before her father's death, and her mother's, before she fled to Braavos, and before she gave her name and face in exchange for the ability to kill. If he was right, then the Old Gods he loved so dearly had chosen a very dark path for his youngest daughter to walk... alone.

Crying out in pain she reached for her stomach again, only to be stopped by someone's sweaty hands holding her back. With tears threatening to spill from her closed eyes she tried to focus. She could have easily freed herself from the man's grip, but didn't. Somewhere under the pain, the memories and the fear she knew he was holding her wrists for her own good. The small fragment of her brain that remained logical reminded her that she'd refused to take milk of the poppy, insisting she needed to remain alert for all their sakes.

Time passed in a strange way she didn't understand. She had no idea how long she laid on the table in that tiny shack, it might have been hours or it could have been days. Finally, just when she felt ready to sleep, a woman appeared on the right side of her head. She used a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from her face. "It's time to push dear."

Those words changed everything and immediately the assassin was awake and alert. She blinked hard twice to clear her field of vision and then she looked down, over her bulging belly to the midwife positioned between her legs.

As she began to push a living being from her body she couldn't control her thoughts. Her mind went to the family she lost. It occurred to her that she thought about them more in a single day, than she had in the previous year but she didn't fight it. For once she allowed the memories to come freely. It seemed only fitting given her situation.

She thought of her mother and wondered what advice the woman might have for her now. Swords, daggers and death she could handle with ease, but babies were outside of her skill set. Sansa would know what to do, she was certain of that, but this was just one more example of how different the two sisters were.

As lost as she was, as rudderless as she felt, she knew she had to finish this. It was the reason she wore her own face for months, afraid that the magic of the change might affect the child. She also avoided Braavos, the only home she had left, worried what the Kindly Man and the others might do if they realized her condition. This child certainly wasn't planned and she had no illusions about who or what she was, she was No One, she was a killer, but she couldn't end the child's life, the thought alone turned her stomach. No, she would have this baby and give it the best life she could, and so she pushed and pushed again.

As she heard that the baby's head was crowning Arya felt completely drained, but she knew she wasn't yet finished. Laying her head back on the table she looked up and noticed a small gap between two of the boards that made up the roof. She looked through the space, into the sky and saw the twinkle of a faraway star. She allowed herself a smile then. Perhaps this was part of her destiny too? Perhaps the Gods fated her for more than just killing and pain. Before she could give that much thought, another relentless band of pressure across her stomach demanded her attention.

When it was over she had a beautiful baby girl. Her skin looked smooth and she had her mother's grey eyes. Arya stood over her, watching with wonder, despite her exhaustion. She was fascinated by the child, but refused each time the midwife offered her the chance to hold the baby. "What will you name her?" she asked sweetly.

"I won't, not yet anyway."

R-C

The assassin had been stabbed, sliced and nearly cleaved more times than she cared to remember and still she recovered far faster from those wounds than she did from the harrowing experience of childbirth.

For days after her baby was brought into the world she felt as if her insides had been ripped out with her. Slowly she began to heal, and eventually she allowed the midwife to teach her to hold the fragile looking thing, if only so she could feed her more easily.

For months, she waited. Her midwife stayed on as a nanny, helping the mother to care for her child. She taught the assassin to hold her, and feed her and change her. Despite her progress with motherhood Arya still refused to name her child and was constantly asking the older woman when it would be safe for her and the baby to travel.

When the nameless baby was a little more than five months old the midwife finally decreed to her nameless mother that she was healthy enough for a short journey. "We won't be going far," she promised.

As they were leaving the midwife surprised her with a hug. "You take care of that girl now, and yourself."

Feeling closer to this woman than she had to anyone in years she hugged her back and thanked her. She'd left a large coin purse in the woman's shack, one she would find long after mother and child were gone. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I couldn't have done any of this without your help. I'll always be grateful."

"Give her a good life," the woman replied, echoing the mantra that had been playing in the assassin's mind since the day she was born.

"I swear I will," Arya said with intensity.

R-C

Bundled up in a collection of the softest, warmest blankets and furs she could find, her baby sat against her chest, held there by leather straps. The bouncing of the horse seemed to soothe her and she slept soundly as Arya guided them to their destination.

She stopped far more frequently than she would have otherwise. Choosing to sleep indoors rather than out, and opting for food served in a tavern over game hunted amongst the trees.

When the gates of King's Landing came into view she had to resist the urge to turn around and flee. Looking down at her baby, she found the girl staring back her, their matching eyes locked together. Dropping a kiss down on the child's head, she felt herself smile. "I'd do anything for you," she said kissing the girl's forehead, "even this."

With new determination, she remembered why she was doing this and she squeezed her thighs together around her horse, urging him forward. Three hundred yards from the gate she noticed a woman standing alone, she wore a heavy cloak with the hood up to hide her face. Although they'd met only one time she recognized the small woman, who stood with such confidence she seemed ten feet tall. She slowed her horse and dismounted, careful not to jostle the baby too much in the process. With her arms protectively covering the child she approached. "Do you remember me?" she asked the woman who still hid behind her cloak.

"Of course," the woman answered, taking a step forward while she pushed back the hood.

For a moment, her breath caught in her throat. It had been years but somehow Daenerys Targaryen had grown even more beautiful than she remembered. They met briefly after Arya had crossed the final name off her list, but she remembered the Queen clearly. She'd travelled all over the world and was confident few women could rival her natural beauty.

"You're the woman who won seven kingdoms and kept only one for yourself." The Queen's words reminded her of the reason for her arrival.

Arya tensed. "I kept none for myself," she corrected coldly.

"Yes, well I suppose that's true. Your sister rules the North well," the Targaryen Queen said as she took another step forward.

Remembering the manners instilled in her during Arya's childhood the assassin dropped to one knee. "Your Grace."

"Stand, there is no need for that," Daenerys said with a warm laugh. "Come now, let us go and speak inside. I received your note and I must say I'm curious as to why you've come."

Arya returned to a standing position, still careful to hide the baby under her arms. She could see the Queen watching her closely, as if trying to solve a riddle. "Are you certain?" she asked with a rare twinge of humor in her voice. "The last time a wolf entered these gates things didn't end well for the Queen."

Daenerys gave her another smile, waving her hand toward the gate. "I trust you. Come inside now, you've travelled far."

The assassin didn't move and when Daenerys realized she wasn't being followed she turned back. "Thank you for the offer, your Grace, but I can't stay."

She could see the confusion on the woman's face as it shifted to anger. "What is this?" she demanded to know. "You send me a missive that is intentionally vague, ask me to meet outside the gates, alone and now you won't tell me why! I am your Queen!"

Unmoved by the outburst she remained calm, casually rocking the child in her arms from side to side. "The last time we spoke, you told me that if I ever needed anything, I could come to you. You said you were in my debt," she reminded her.

"Yes of course I remember," Daenerys said quickly, her eyes and posture softening slightly. "Do you have need of my aid? What can I do for you?"

For the first time since she dismounted her horse she lowered her hands to her sides and revealed the bundle of blankets strapped to her chest. The only part of the child visible was the oval of her face, showcasing a cute little nose, thin pink lips, and puffy, red cheeks.

"Is that…" her words trailed off, as if she had forgotten what she intended to ask.

"My daughter," she answered with a hint of pride.

The Queen gasped at the sight and hurried ahead until she was at Arya's side, peeking over her arm to get a look at the child. "She's beautiful," Daenerys said as she reached out and touched the girl's cool cheek.

"Yes, she is," the killer agreed. It was quiet for a few seconds, and then a few more. Finally, she managed to speak again. "She deserves a good life, I want her to have a good life." As she finished her voice broke, and she felt Daenerys's hand come to rest on her arm.

"She will! She will, we have peace now in all seven kingdoms, she can grow to be safe and happy. You can go to Winterfell, or stay here."

Without comment Arya began unstrapping the carrier that held the baby to her body. "I want her to have a good life," Arya repeated, sounding tired, even to her own ears.

"Of course you do," Daenerys agreed gently. "You love her."

"I love her enough to do this," Arya said as she removed the baby from the carrier and held her in her arms directly. The baby cooed and reached for her nose and the assassin could only smile. She kissed the child's forehead. "I love you and you'll always be my little wolf," she whispered, before she reached out in an attempt to hand the baby to Daenerys.

"Arya, what are you…"

"I heard whispers about you. They said that the Mother of Dragons gave birth to beasts because she couldn't have children." Arya didn't need words to know the tales were true, one look into Daenerys's violet eyes told her plenty. "You're a good Queen, I made a wise choice in choosing you and I'm doing so again. Please take her, and give her a good life, a better life than I ever could."

"What are you saying? She's your child you can't just give her to me," the Queen protested.

"Why not? I can't offer her any sort of life, let alone a good one. The blood on my hands is too thick, my life is too dangerous, I'm too dangerous." She paused and took an uneven breath. "When I left you with King's Landing you promised to help me, if you truly meant that, do this for me. Take her, raise her as your own and allow your heir and her heirs after her to rule Westeros fairly for thousands of years."

"You can't do this, surely Sansa in Winterfell would be a better choice."

"Starks die," she said grimly. "Even with everyone dead, being a Stark is dangerous."

"Being a Targaryen isn't much safer," Daenerys pointed out.

"If a baby shows up in Winterfell people will ask questions and word will reach Braavos."

"You think they'd harm her?"

"I won't give them the chance to even consider it. She's yours now."

Everything was glassy, tainted by the tears she refused to cry. Next to her Daenerys had no such reservations as tears streaked down her cheeks with abandon. The next time she tried to hand the baby off to her new mother, Daenerys took her, holding the bundled baby in her arms for the first time.

The knowledge that she was doing the right thing was almost enough to counteract the pain she felt seeing her daughter in the arms of another mother, almost.

"Arya, are you certain about this? You can come with us. She can have a good life in King's Landing with you there. Wouldn't that be better?"

Better? It sounded like heaven but she knew it wouldn't work. She had too many enemies, her heart and soul were weighed down by her many sins, her unrelenting pain and the never ending hate she still felt. She would love to be in her daughter's life but it was nothing but a dream. The reality was she didn't want anything or anyone as dark and depraved as she was within a hundred feet of her perfect little girl.

"I can't," she said simply. "I just can't"

When Daenerys said nothing, she assumed their conversation done. She went to her horse and stuffed the baby carrier into the saddle bag. She had no idea why she was keeping it, she'd never need it again, but still throwing it away felt equally wrong. She was climbing onto her mount when she heard Daenerys's voice. "Wait, are you leaving?"

"You should get her inside," she said with a nod toward the baby. "It's getting cold out here."

"You won't come with us?" she asked, her voice making it clear she already knew the answer.

She moved the horse slowly until she was towering over Daenerys and her baby. "I need to go, but you two take care of each other." Her mask finally broke and she was confident the Queen could see every ounce of pain she was feeling. "And thank you," she said quickly.

"W…what if we need you?" Daenerys asked. Her words were rushed, as if she were afraid Arya would dart off and leave her questions unanswered.

From the pocket of her trousers she removed a small dark coin. Flicking it into the air with her thumb she caught it in a flash of movement. Turning it over in her hand one final time she held it out to Daenerys. "If you need me, send a man to Braavos with this… they'll find me."

The child of Northern winters felt the Dragon's blood as their hands touched. She passed the coin and took one final look at both of them, each one breathtakingly flawless in their own way. Before she could lose her nerve, she pushed the horse to move, away from Daenerys and away from her baby. Every step she put between them hurt, but she also knew the further away she was, the safer they'd be. Which was why she'd be on a boat bound for Braavos before sundown.

The Queen's voice called to her as the horse trotted along. "Wait, you didn't even tell me her name."

"She doesn't have one," the assassin yelled back.

"What!?" she shouted, her disbelief was obvious.

"You're her mother now," Arya told her flatly, "you name her!"

 

R-C


	2. Chapter 2

It took a lot of work, a small mountain of lies, a few trusted friends and one long storied tale, but somehow Daenerys and her closest associates managed to convince the world she had a daughter.

Only five people knew the truth, Jorah, Tyrion, Daenerys, Missandei and Grey Worm. The rest of the world, in King's Landing and beyond heard the story that Tyrion crafted for them, one so full of intrigue, danger and possibility that few doubted its validity.

To hear the Lannister tell it, the child was conceived before a trip across the Narrow Sea, during a time when Daenerys and some of her advisors travelled to check on their holdings outside of Westeros. The long trips helped explain why no one saw their Queen pregnant. During that trip, Tyrion told anyone who would listen that assassins attempted to kill Daenerys, wounding her and murdering the child's father as he valiantly protected them. After the tragedy Daenerys returned home, but kept her child hidden away until she felt it was safe enough to reveal her.

For the first three months after Arya gave her a baby Daenerys left the governing largely to Tyrion, appearing only when absolutely necessary. Since she was a new mother, mourning the loss of her child's father, few pushed the issue.

Daenerys was in paradise, raising a growing, happy girl she named Amara. Since her time with Drogo Daenerys had always wanted to be a mother, but she hadn't realized just how unprepared she was until the first time Amara cried out in the night. Missandei had been a blessing, even more so than usual as Daenerys got a handle on motherhood. When ruling required a Queen, Missandei would step in and care for Amara as if she were the most precious thing she'd ever seen. Daenerys for one, couldn't disagree.

She thought about Arya often, about the woman who gave her kingdoms, and then returned years later to offer up the only thing her life lacked, a child for her to love. More than once she penned a letter to the stranger, who felt more like family, but each time she'd burn it. She decided that Arya had her reasons for giving up her child and Daenerys wasn't going to complicate that any further, by bringing all of that pain to the surface.

It was shortly before her first name day that Amara Targaryen was shown to the world. Standing on a balcony overlooking a square the crowds cheered when they saw the child that up until that moment had been nothing more than rumor and guesswork.

The princess, wearing in a blue dress that matched her mother's, sat against Daenerys's chest, laughing happily and clapping along with the crowd.

Afterward a few people mentioned the size of the child, questioning her age, but Tyrion's spies had already begun spreading the word that the Maester insisted on feeding the baby special food so she'd grow faster. It was ludicrous but the people believed and that was all that mattered.

Not long after Amara's first showing, Daenerys received a raven from Braavos. The scroll was small and had only five words; What did you name her?

Although she didn't recognize the messy, uneven scratching, she instinctively knew who it was from. There could be no one else. Without delay she sat down and penned the reply. Nearby Jorah was bouncing Amara on his knee, listening to her giggle, so Daenerys had a moment to work in privacy. She replied in a far more formal manner,

I named her Amara. I thought it sounded beautiful and she seems suited to it. I hope you like it as well. 

We are preparing a feast to honor her, you are welcome to join us, if you wish. You'll always be welcome here.

Keep in touch, please

Daenerys Targaryen

The next letter came with a package. Inside Daenerys found not only a letter from Arya but also a pouch of valuable coins and a toy carved from wood. As she held it up to the light she immediately recognized it at as a wolf and she smiled.

Before she could read the letter, Amara began crying. Getting up from her seat Daenerys rushed to the child's room and scooped the baby into her arms. As she cooed to her restless daughter she carried her away from the bedroom and toward the office where she'd been working. Rocking the baby back and forth, Daenerys held up the wolf and Amara immediately grabbed for it. She handed it over and watched as her daughter began to gnaw on the wolf's smooth ear. "You like that huh? Your other mama sent that here for you." She punctuated her statement with a loud kiss to Amara's cheek, causing the girl to grin toothlessly.

Carefully she reached for the letter without dropping the baby. "Let's see what she has to say this time," she said speaking to her daughter as if she somehow understood.

She read the words out loud, slowly while Amara focused entirely on her newest toy.

Thank you for your letter, your Grace, I am truly grateful. I know it's not much, but please give Amara this gift from me. Should she not like it, I've included some coins so you may purchase what she would enjoy. 

Amara is a beautiful name and word of the Dragon's Daughter has crossed the Narrow Sea. Every new ship speaks of you. They say you're an even better mother than you are a ruler. Once again, I was wise to choose you. Thank you Daenerys. 

I'm flattered by the invitation but I fear if I returned to see Amara, I'd never leave. I trust you'll take good care of her. 

All my gratitude, 

She noticed the letter was unsigned but didn't give it much thought, choosing instead to swoon at how sweet the assassin was acting, sending gifts and coin for Amara. Looking at the girl, who was still happily playing with her wolf, Daenerys knew the coins weren't needed, Amara already loved the gift.

That night after she'd tucked her child into bed, Daenerys sat down on the floor next to her daughter and began to tell a story. It was a story of wolves and dragons, a tale of one sole wolf who was both dangerous and kind. She weaved the story from her imagination and her memories, telling Amara how the great wolf gave a lonely dragon exactly what her life had been missing.

When she stood she found Missandei watching from the doorway. "That was very sweet," the handmaiden whispered.

Daenerys said nothing until she was out of the room. She closed the door behind them to let her daughter rest peacefully. "I love her so much," Daenerys said in explanation. "I'd give up all my kingdoms for her, I'd wage wars for her, I'd fight the Gods themselves if needed, all for her."

"You're a good mother," Missandei said, as if it were that plain and simple.

"I love her," Daenerys confirmed, "but Arya does too. If you'd seen her face that day, if you'd seen the pain barely hidden in her eyes, you'd understand. She loves Amara just as deeply, and she stays away."

Missandei put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "She stays away to keep her safe, your Grace."

"I know," Daenerys admitted, "but I wish she didn't have to."

R-C

Marching through the corridors wordlessly she weaved amongst her brothers and sisters, hurrying to the place where she wanted to be. She came to a stop next to the fountain of death. Its dark waters were well known in Braavos and beyond. Anyone who tired of life need only come in, ask for a cup, and wait for the end.

People tried to talk to her, some would ask her questions but she said nothing, instead walking up to the fountain, removing her worn boots and sitting on the floor with her legs folded under her. One hour, that is all she allowed herself, one hour a day where she could think of her daughter, remember her and wonder how she was doing. If she didn't stop herself after only an hour, it is how she'd spend the whole of her days, everyday.

During that hour, she only stood when a person entered the hall looking for death and she only cut her hour short if the Kindly Man required her services. Today she sat with her eyes closed, remembering every moment she spent with Amara. The first time she saw her, the first time she held her, the last time. She could remember it all, the soft skin, her easy smiles, that clean smell that can't be duplicated anywhere else. It was impossible for her to forget.

While she hadn't been to Westeros since leaving Amara, she and Daenerys did exchange letters. She carried the letters on her at all times, afraid to leave them to be discovered and equally unwilling to burn them, even after she had memorized the contents.

Opening her eyes, she reached into her satchel, pulling out a block of light colored wood in one hand and a sharp dagger in the other. As she began to cut off the corners and build the shape, she set her knife down long enough to pull a book from her bag. Turning it to the earmarked page she smiled. With her eyes on the book's picture she picked up the knife and got to work.

Her hands worked furiously while her grey eyes bounced from the wood to the book and back. Dried blood from the night before still colored her skin, but she didn't notice, all of her attention was on the toy that was slowly taking form with each expert movement of her sharpened edge.

When she heard the approaching footsteps, she was quick to hide what she was doing. She closed the book, which had been her guide and slipped the blade up her sleeve.  
"Valar Dohaeris, my friend."

The Kindly Man stood before her, holding a stick he certainly didn't need to stand. She stood, slipping the half-completed project into her pocket. "Valar Morghulis."

"What is that you were working on?" he asked far too casually.

She knew that his question wasn't innocent or random. He'd been the one to teach that lesson himself. "No One understands that every bit of information, every fact has a value. Not today perhaps, or tomorrow but eventually," he'd said.

As she breathed evenly in an attempt to slow her heart she reached back into her pants to retrieve the figurine. She held it out, and the man took hold with his wrinkly fingers. "This is…"

"Just a remembrance," she lied easily, feeling no remorse as she did so.

"Remembrance of what?"

"While I was travelling, I spent some time in Westeros. I saw a dragon, first flying and then from a distance as he ate a cow he'd burnt alive."

"I hear the winged demons are impressive," he said without emotion, giving no indication of his own feelings on the matter.

"I was impressed," No One agreed. "I wanted to try and carve the statue before I forgot."

Turning the item in his hand he looked at it, and then at its creator. "You're off to a good start."

He handed her back the wood and she bowed her head respectfully as he moved away. Only after she was alone again, did she sit, determined to make the most of her time. As she got back to work moulding the wood, she thought of the girl who would now have not only a wolf to watch out for her, but a dragon as well.

She was given her space until the time was up. She stood, packed up the book and her tools and intended to go to the corner where she made her bed, but his presence held her. "Valar Dohaeris, again girl. Are you ready to serve the Many Faced God?"

She didn't even need to turn to answer. "I will serve. Who needs the Gift?"

"A trader who feels his debts are somehow optional."

"Valar Morghulis, then."

R-C

She rode a horse closer and closer to King's Landing and felt the knot in her stomach tighten with every step. Staying away was hard, but it was significantly easier with the sea positioned between them. Now that she was back on the continent, she felt an unnatural pull she couldn't explain.

She'd come for a difficult trader, a man who sold furs. He'd taken a loan from the Iron Bank and now refused to pay. Tired of his refusals the bank hired the Faceless Men to resolve the issue and the Kindly Man chose her.

For weeks, she wore the face of a serving girl as she fluttered around one tavern and then the next. She laughed, poured drinks and flirted with travellers and locals alike. She subtly quizzed them about her quarry but got little in the way of valuable information.

Then finally late into the night she poured wine for a lush from King's Landing. He'd been drunk for hours but was just now choosing to become talkative. He told the serving girl and anyone else within range how he'd passed the trader on the roads. He laughed at how scared the man had seemed. He was going to sell his wares, while the trader hurried in the opposite direction, racing for the safety of King's Landing.

"Is it safe there?" she asked as innocently as she could manage. Safe was never a word she'd associated with that rat's nest.

With a laugh and a large hand cupping her ass the man finished the last of his wine and gestured for more. "It'll be safer there here. Stupid fool didn't pay his debts. What did he think was going to happen?"

"What'll he do?" the assassin asked while her brain went to work on a plan.

With another laugh the man answered, tightening his hold on the killer in the process. "Throw himself on the mercy of the Dragon Queen and hope she's feeling generous, I suppose. Maybe he'll get lucky and she'll need the coins he offers."

No One had heard enough. With a practiced flourish, she poured the man a fresh goblet of wine and then reached down, placing her hand over his, which hadn't strayed from her curve of her ass. For a second he smiled, certain she was encouraging him, until she twisted his wrist violently, breaking it at least once. She dropped his limp arm, and was gone before his screams had stopped bouncing off the walls.

R-C

Daenerys sat on the Iron Throne and kept her composure until the door closed behind their last guest. He'd been an elderly grain farmer who insisted on telling his Queen every aspect of the harvest before he sold her a thing. 'To ensure they reached a fair bargain,' he said. As the door echoed in the large room her lips twitched and her shoulders rocked with laughs. "Well that was interesting," she said playfully.

Behind her, her best friend was also trying to control her laughter, but the former slave was having better success than the Queen. "I thought he'd keep talking about his farms all night, your Grace."

"I'm glad he didn't, I'm starving!" Daenerys stood from the uncomfortable seat and stretched her tired muscles. It had been a long day of listening to her people and she was ready for it to be over. "He might have kept going," Daenerys admitted with a gleam in her eye, "but I paid him nearly double what I intended just to make him stop."

Missandei put her arm around her friend's shoulders. "A very wise Queen you are," she teased with a chuckle.

"Come," Daenerys said as she descended the steps, "I promised Amara we'd have dinner together. She spent the day with Tyrion, so we shouldn't delay."

Missandei could only smirk. "You left her with Tyrion all day?" she exaggerated the last words as they walked side by side to the exit. "We should definitely hurry, he's probably taught her to drink only the finest wines and to procure only the best prostitutes."

Her chuckle turned dark and her violet eyes narrowed. "He better not! I adore Tyrion but I'd feed him to Drogon for that."

"Of course, your Grace," Missandei said formally, the conversation suddenly serious. "Tyrion may jest but he cares for your daughter as surely as the rest of us. He'd never let harm come to her."  
Daenerys's hard expression melted away. "I know, I just worry about her. This place isn't known for producing too many stable, healthy children."

Hugging the Queen to her side Missandei whispered in her ear. "Then Amara will be the first."

The private moment was interrupted when the doors swung open wide and Grey Worm marched in, spear in hand with four of his men. In the center of a diamond formation stood a tattered traveller. His hair was shaggy and overgrown, his clothes dirty and torn, and his shoes were worn near clean through.

"What is this?" the Targaryen asked her commander.

"We found him at the gate," he said in his native tongue. "He brings a chest of gold and asks protection."

"Protection from what, or whom?"

"He would not say, just asked for a meeting with the Mother of Dragons."

Barking out orders Daenerys had the man released. Once he was free he dropped to a knee in front of her. She stepped closer and got verification that his smell was even worse than his unkempt appearance. "You wish to seek my protection?"

He looked up slightly, while staying on his knee. "Oh yes, yes your Grace. You're the only one who can save me now."

"Save you from what?"

"The Iron Bank, your Grace," the man admitted weakly.

"What is your name?"

"Marten Baxter your Grace, I am just a humble fur trader."

"You're running from the Iron Bank?" Daenerys felt obligated to verify, although she trusted he ears.

"Yes, your Grace and I can pay…"

"Why not take that money and pay back your debt?" she wondered.

He threw up his hands in frustration, until an Unsullied gripped his shoulder tightly and reminded him of his place. "It's too late for that," he said. "They'd take the money and still have me killed regardless. You're my only hope, please your Grace."

"How much coin are you offering?"

"All I have, your Grace," he said growing agitated again. "I have a chest. Your savages took it."

In truth Daenerys had no idea what to do with such a man. She wasn't in the habit of protecting debtors who refused to pay, but on the other hand the chest of gold he was offering was tempting. She'd need Tyrion's council on this. She might still be learning about Westerosi politics but everyone knew of the Iron Bank and the control and influence they wielded.   
Daenerys had been making payments to them for years, attempting to decrease the Realms debts and keep them content.

Addressing Grey Worm Daenerys gave her orders. "Find Mr. Baxter a place to clean and rest. Keep him under guard, three men, at all times." When he nodded his agreement, Daenerys kept going, "Also I want to know how much coin he's offering, have the chest emptied and counted."

Banging his spear on the floor Grey Worm offered a tiny smile. "At once, your Grace."

Missandei and Daenerys stood side by side and watched as the contingent of guards left with their prisoner in tow. "What are you going to do?" Missandei asked gently as they started walking again.

She looked out the impressive stained glassed windows and saw the sky was already growing dark. It truly had been a long day. "Now? I'm going to go and have dinner with my daughter. Would you care to join us? I know Amara would love to see her Aunt Missi."

With a wide smile Missandei moved ahead and opened the door for the ruler. "And what of this Baxter?"

"I'll decide what to do with him after Amara is in bed."

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So I've decided to continue this. Not sure how quickly I'll update, it'll likely depend on my health, but now that I've started, I'll keep going until it's finished.
> 
> Thank you to everybody who is reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Within days of Amara taking her first steps Daenerys was a mother on a mission. First, she took a walled in courtyard that had been traditionally used to train soldiers and she had the troops and weapons removed. Then she ordered a handful of her staff to ensure the area was free of dangers. They removed rocks, no matter how small, and any fragments of steel left over.

Tyrion was on his way to a meeting when he happened to walk past a window and glance out. His eyes widened as he saw a group of men on their hands and knees, feeling around the grass.

When he arrived at his meeting he couldn't help but ask. "Why are there people kneeling in the courtyard." After a moment, he decided to add another point, "They didn't really look like the praying type."

"They weren't praying," Daenerys told him seriously. "They are cleaning."

"Cleaning what?"

"I want a place outside for Amara to play," Daenerys said as she stood from her chair. "That courtyard is walled in, so it's safe for her, only one way in or out. and the troops can train on the other side of the keep."

Tyrion finished pouring himself a drink before he replied. "So why are they on their knees exactly?"

She shook her head as if everything should be obvious. When it was clear that it wasn't, she spoke, "I'm not going to let Amara play and fall in a field that has rocks and broken sword pieces lying everywhere. It needs to be safe."

Now that he understood, he moved on to new business. "Alright then. So, tell me about this Baxter?"

"He came seeking protection from the Iron Bank?" she told him bluntly. "He offers a chest of coins, valuable ones, in exchange."

Tyrion sipped his drink and then had a short laugh. "So, our friend has taken from the Iron Bank and rather than pay his debts back as promised he decided to involve us."

Daenerys said nothing, because nothing needed to be said. She knew Tyrion well enough to know he was just thinking out loud. She was proved right when he kept going. "We've been paying back the debts incurred by Robert and my sister for years, but we still have a long way to go, it might not be wise to anger the bank over this stranger."

"Paying back the debts of my predecessors has seriously drained the treasury."

"Repairing the damage left by the wars didn't help either," he pointed out.

"That chest of gold could go a long way to help us."

"It could," he agreed. "What are you going to do, your Grace?"

He exaggerated her title with a sarcastic bow that made her smile. "Well, since you asked, I'm going to go find Amara and spend some time with her, and then I'll worry about Baxter and the Iron Bank."

Over the months, everyone including Tyrion had learned not to question Daenerys in matters that regarded her daughter. He left quietly, taking the remainder of his drink with him.

R-C

Running on four legs she leapt over fallen logs and raced through the thick layer of trees. Her mouth was salivating as she closed in on her prey.

Suddenly her head tilted to the side and she caught a scent on the wind. Forgetting her dinner, she changed her mind and raced off in the opposite direction, barking to her pack as she went.

R-C

The sun shined brightly over the courtyard. Daenerys sat in a chair off to the side with Missandei and Tyrion. They were enjoying their lunch while they watched Amara play. She had her wooden wolf in one hand and a flower she plucked from the ground in the other. On chubby, unsteady legs she rushed over to her mother, offering her the flower with a wide smile.

Daenerys took the present and smiled brightly as she pulled her little girl into her arms. She hugged her tight and told her she loved the gift, and then she sent her little angel to play. She tumbled more than Daenerys liked, but everyone assured her it was normal.

"She's a tough little monster," Tyrion said between bites. "Every time she falls, she doesn't even cry, but rather just bounces back up."

"She is just like her mother," Missandei said kindly.

Daenerys turned away from her food and watched the girl play a game only she understood. She was waving her wolf around as though it could fly and making noises to accompany every movement. "Both her mothers," Daenerys said in a whisper.

R-C

The next day the same trio was sitting in the yard watching Amara and talking amongst themselves when the calls of guards demanded attention. Fearing danger Daenerys jumped from her chair and raced to Amara's side, grabbing her and holding her tight to her chest.

Seconds later the peaceful afternoon was broken by a beast hurrying toward them. Guards chased after the animal and one even fired an arrow that missed thanks to it's quick strides.

It made a run straight toward Amara and Daenerys. The Queen turned her back on the animal, attempting to shield her daughter, but the strike never came. Cautiously she peeked over her shoulder and found a large wolf lying on the grass, under the sun, looking relaxed. It was clearly a submissive position for the wild creature. Daenerys didn't understand what was happening, but she didn't need to. "Kill it," she commanded.

One of the Unsullied approached spear in hand, but before he reached his target Tyrion spoke up. "Wait, your Grace!"

Daenerys was furious. Wait? Why should she wait? She could have been killed. More importantly Amara could have been harmed. She would not allow her daughter to be placed in danger to satisfy one of the Lannister's whims. "That thing almost killed me, killed Amara, how can you ask me to wait?"

Tyrion walked across the grass to where the Queen was standing. His voice lowered to a whisper as he spoke, looking suggestively at the nearby Unsullied. "Because I don't think it did, try and kill you I mean. I've seen an animal like this before, your Grace."

"Where?" she asked, her volume far louder than his.

"Winterfell."

Daenerys was stunned. "Are you saying…"

Tyrion interrupted her quickly, giving another hard look to the soldier who was close enough to hear them. "I'm not sure what I'm saying," he announced cryptically.

Understanding why Tyrion was less than forthcoming, she helpfully dismissed the soldiers from the courtyard with a wave of her hand. When they were alone she tried again. "Are you saying Arya sent this thing here?" she questioned, looking at the animal who seemed oblivious to their conversation.

"I'm not sure," he told her honestly, "but the last time I saw an animal like that one of the Starks was feeding it by hand."

With a sigh Daenerys called the soldiers back over and carefully set Amara down on her feet. She kept herself between the wolf and her daughter, but allowed the animal to get closer. The guards had encircled them and were waiting for any sign from their Queen to kill the direwolf.

There was nothing aggressive about the wolf's actions as she inched closer to the little girl. When she was close enough, she laid down again and simply waited. It didn't take long for Amara to get curious and hurry up on wobbling legs. Daenerys matched her step for step, and watched as her daughter's small hand got lost in the animal's fur. The only response from the strange wolf was a contented murmur. With a wide, excited smile Amara looked to her mother, as if she wanted to make sure Daenerys could see what she was doing. "Doggy," she said happily, before moving her hand across the wolf's head.

Another sigh left the Queen as she looked down at her Hand. "Damn it," she complained quietly. "I think I just adopted a wolf."

Tyrion smirked wickedly, looking to Amara who was mesmerized by the new arrival. "What's one more? You already took in one stray wolf."  


R-C

She was glad she could wear another face as she moved through Westeros. When she'd come to end the Lannister bloodline she wore her own face, or Arya Stark's face at least, ensuring everyone knew who she was, what she was doing and why.

She knew what they said about her. She'd heard the whispers in dark corners, late at night after too many rounds of cheap wine and stale mead.

In the North, they called her 'The Vengeful Wolf'. Many believed she had actually been dead, killed as a girl, until she was resurrected by the Old Gods and sent to right the wrongs done to the honorable Starks.

She started in her former home, clearing Winterfell of the Bolton garrison and reinstalling a Stark in power there. Blood was spilled freeing Winterfell from the Bolton's grasp, but the carnage was nothing compared to what was to come.

The massacre at Dreadfort was enough to bring all the remaining Northern houses together in an uneasy peace. While she didn't regret anything she'd done, that didn't mean she still didn't see their faces in the darkness, or hear their screams as she dreamt. She killed hundreds that night, men, women and children and she never even swung her sword. She simply bared the gates locking Roose, Ramsay and the others inside before setting a fire that would engulf them all. They bartered and begged and tried to break free, but their killer said nothing, instead choosing to watch it all burn in silence.

After Dreadfort the Northerners feared her and rightly so. They gave her a wide berth when she passed through and avoided her as much as possible, both things the killer could understand and appreciate. Even still, most people in the North believed the only reason they had peace and a Queen of their own was because of Arya Stark and her violent ways. They respected her as much as they feared her and for the Northern girl, that was enough.

If the North thought of her was vengeful, if not righteous the people in the South held no such convictions. To them she was the 'Rabid Wolf'. They felt no kinship to her, or her cause and the devastation she left in her wake gave them little reason to trust her.

She rode South, stopping at every town, no matter how small or insignificant. She slaughtered Lannister supporters, and anyone who opposed Robb when he was trying to free the North. She left a lot of blood behind her. Typically, she put the bodies on display, so everyone knew she had been there. It worked since fear and word of her deeds often reached her destinations before her horse could.

Like their Northern counterparts the Southerners too had some strange ideas of where she'd come from. She heard it said she was a demon from beyond the Wall, others claimed she'd risen from the grave to destroy the Realm.

Her attack on Casterly Rock was far more subtle than anything she'd done up to that point. She snuck in under the cover of darkness and made her way right to Tywin Lannister's bedchamber. She snuck in and found him and his whore sleeping. She killed the woman first, waking up her prize in the process. Behind the heavy walls and thick doors, they would have all the privacy she needed. It took hours, but she carved him up, one piece at a time, using a branding iron to stop the bleeding so he wouldn't die before she was ready. She told him in detail, about every transgression she felt he was responsible for. He paid for all his sins multiple times over before she was finished. When it was, he asked in a weak voice unbefitting him, "What of my children?"

"They'll join you soon enough," she promised darkly. "Well two of them at least."

When he bowed his head in defeat she swung her sword again, removing everything above his neck. She heard that in the morning when they found his body, there were pieces of him scattered across the room and so much blood they had to burn everything. The rumors she heard from the travellers and merchants who passed through Braavos told her that no one had set foot in that room since. In a very perverse way this pleased her.

Her stomach turned as the gates of King's Landing came into view. All too perfectly she could recall what it was like to stand outside the gate and give away the only thing in her life that truly mattered. She'd promised herself she'd stay away, that she'd keep Amara safe by being absent, but fate seemed to have other ideas, or perhaps she was being punished for her sins by being reminded again and again of what she couldn't have.

Tying her horse in the stable she made her way toward the keep, feeling worse the closer she got. Her mind wandered as she walked. Had Daenerys given Baxter safe-haven? Would she oppose his murder or did she turn him away and send him and his chest of coins back to Braavos to face the Iron Bank?

Pulling up a hood to hide her scarred face she crept in the shadows near one of the guard outposts. A dozen Unsullied worked out of the location, three shifts of four. She stood for nearly an hour waiting for one of the men to separate himself from the group. When he did, it was a young man who needed to relieve himself. He reminded her of Jon, young and strong, looking so proud in his armour. She crept up behind him in an alley and he didn't hear a thing. It would have been easy to kill him, but she didn't, choosing instead to strike the man on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. As she borrowed his uniform she reached up and touched the scar on her face. Pain burned in her cheek and forehead as slowly a new set of features replaced hers.

The face she wore was one of a Braavosi she knew. He'd come into the temple seeking an end and she provided it. Distraught over the death of his child, and his wife, he saw no reason to continue living. She'd chosen his face in a futile attempt to offer the kind, defeated man she met a little more life. It was pointless and largely meaningless but she'd done it nonetheless.

Her armour and the face she wore left little question that she belonged. She moved quickly without running, heading toward the castle. The turns and corridors were all too familiar as she slipped through them silently. She remembered far too much about this place, far more than she wished too. If it wasn't memories of her time as a girl, she was plagued by the flashes of violence that documented her last trip inside this hellhole. She'd snuck in much the same way and found Cersei and Jamie Lannister together in the throne room. They were the final names on her list and she was determined to remove them. It was a long and bloody battle that included many more guards than she anticipated. She almost didn't prevail but in the end her rage and hate were no match for any of them, even one as talented as the King Slayer.

Up a staircase she found three Unsullied standing outside a door. At first, she thought it might be Amara's room, but she heard a man talking to someone inside. Three guards on one door, Daenerys had decided to protect Baxter after all. Curious she passed the room with a nod to her fellow soldiers and entered the next door she found. Without bothering to look around she hurried to the window and peeked out. There was a ledge, it was small, but it would provide her access to Baxter. She could give him the Gift and be gone before anyone found the body, but instead of carrying out her suitable plan, she was held in place by a soft gurgling sound. Turning, she expected to find someone watching her, someone with questions, but instead she found a bed with a young girl laying on it, dreaming as she rolled slightly in the assassin's direction.

Even without seeing her eyes, there was no doubt it was Amara, the girl was too beautiful to be mistaken for anybody else. Quietly she crept to the bed and just stood watching the child sleep. Before she could stop herself. she reached out and brushed some of the dark hair away from her face. It was several shades lighter than her hair, but still darker than the Queen's.

Her moment of silent adoration was interrupted by rapid feet. Turning she was once again surprised by what she found. Standing there, looking perfectly content was Nymeria. She would recognize her wolf anywhere. It made her smile to think that Nym was looking after her daughter. She would rest a little easier now. The wolf trotted up to her as if it had been only days since they'd last seen each other and not years. Bending down she ran her fingers through the thick coat and smiled. "Thank you, girl," she whispered. "There is no one I trust more to keep her safe."

R-C

As she walked toward her daughter's room Daenerys saw the guards she'd instructed to guard her guest. They were standing outside, alert, awake and prepared for anything. On her way to the next door she thought of Arya. The violent woman was on her mind frequently since Amara came into her life. She thought of the first things she'd heard about the Vengeful Wolf. She was on her boat, crossing the sea then, she told Tyrion the news and he dismissed it as unimportant. "The North is always slightly unstable," he told her. "Too many old grudges and petty disputes, your Grace, nothing to concern yourself with. When you hold the rest of Westeros, the North will fall in line as well."

Days later another raven arrived, bringing word that the Wolf was roaming South. At first, she was enraged. She suspected Arya wanted the same thing that she herself was after, the Iron Throne. She thought of the Stark as competition, but she couldn't have been more wrong. All Arya wanted was justice, or more accurately revenge. Daenerys didn't know it then, but Arya had no desire to sit on the throne or rule. She thought of their first meeting, it had been so strange and unexpected, it made her smile as she pushed the door open to Amara's room.

She tensed when she noticed the Unsullied standing with his back to the door, looking down at Amara's bed. "What are you doing? Who sent you here?" she hissed as she marched toward him. In an attempt to let her daughter rest, she kept her voice low, but there was no mistaking her anger, even at the lower volume.

The man's hands raised slowly and even without being able to see his face she could tell he was smiling. There was nothing funny about this for Daenerys though. "I mean you no harm your Grace." The voice was softer, smoother than the Queen had been expecting.

"Who are you?"

"I mean you no harm, not you or your daughter, I'd die first. I came into this room not realizing she would be here, but then I saw her and I couldn't bring myself to leave."

"Turn around slowly, or I'll call the guards."

"There is no need for guards Daenerys, as I said, I mean none of you any harm."

"I said turn around. Show your face."

"Very well." While Daenerys watched the Unsullied moved one of his hands. She tensed, fearing the worst but instead of reaching for the sleeping child, he touched his own face. It took only a moment, and then the hand fell to his side. She expected the soldier to turn, but he took another long look at Amara and then reached out and rubbed the direwolf behind her ear. The words were so quiet she almost didn't hear them. "Take care of them for me girl," he said.

The tension in the room was thick and the Dragon was reaching her limit. She was just about to call for aid when the Unsullied again raised his hands above his head and turned. The oversized armour clanged slightly as he moved. When he was facing her Daenerys realized just how wrong she'd been. It wasn't a man at all but a woman, and she wasn't one of the Unsullied. She narrowed her eyes and locked in on the deep, grey that reminded her of the sea during a storm. "Arya?"

Taking a knee Arya showed her respect for the Queen she'd entrusted with her baby. "Your Grace."

Moving forward she took hold of Arya's arm and pulled her up to her feet. "Come now, you don't need to kneel. I wouldn't be Queen at all, if not for you."

She shrugged. "I just got rid of all the rot. You do the hard work, rebuilding, ruling, ruling justly."

A coo from the bed had both women shifting their attention to Amara. "How is she?" Arya asked in her quietest voice.

"Perfect, she's absolutely perfect. She has started to walk and she can talk up a storm when she wants too, but unfortunately Amara's language is one not even Missandei can learn or understand."

Arya nodded. "I think we need to talk."

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: There it is, chapter three. I hope you all enjoyed it, please free to let me know either way. I'm sure you've figured it out by now, but in case you need verification this story is going to be AU. Lots of living people will die, and some dead people will be brought back to life, likely so Arya can kill them in spectacular fashion.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

‘We need to talk,’ nothing good ever came following those words and Daenerys suspected this would be no different. She felt nothing short of dread as she guided Arya down the hall away from the little girl’s bedroom. To say it was a shock to find the killer Stark in Amara’s room would be an understatement. She hadn’t been this scared when she stepped into the flames that birthed her dragons. She hadn’t been this nervous when she freed the Unsullied and risked losing her army or even the first time she sat on the Iron Throne and realized she now had seven kingdoms to rule and thousands of subjects to guide, watch over and protect. Her fear now was born from the knowledge that she was certain Arya returned to reclaim her child. 

She kept her back straight and her voice light as she offered a drink that the assassin politely refused. When she turned she was surprised to see Arya had set aside the weapons she’d taken from the Unsullied, leaving them on a small wooden table near the door. Daenerys was in the process of deciding her opening words when Arya beat her to it. “I apologize for this your Grace. I intended to come and go without being seen.” 

Already on edge Daenerys’s anger boiled over and she stepped closer to the Wolf. “So you intended to sneak into the castle, snatch a child, from her bed and disappear without so much as a word to the woman who raised her…” she paused, unable to go on. Her volume rose with each word, she could likely be heard down the hall, but she didn’t care. Her small pale hands were balled at her sides and she was confident her anger was obvious even to one as stoic as the Stark. “You were going to come in and steal her away, from the woman who raised her, and loved her…” her voice broke on the word ‘love’ and she blinked back tears. “I didn’t even warrant an explanation?” she asked when her voice was steady again. 

She watched Arya closely for any sign that she understood the gravity, the seriousness of what she had intended to do. She wanted her to understand just how deeply it would have hurt her. Instead she saw surprise move over her face and that enraged the Dragon Queen far more than she already was. Who could be so heartless, so foolhardy that she would not realize how hurt Daenerys would be to lose Amara now. To just go into her room tomorrow morning and find no note, nothing but an empty bed. 

“Your Grace,” she said calmly, “I believe there has been a misunderstanding…”

She didn’t want to hear it. They were alone, so she could speak freely. “You can forget the ‘Your Grace,’ shit. Such titles aren’t required for thieves.” 

This time it was a wry smile that curled the corner of Arya’s lips and Daenerys wanted nothing more in that moment than to strike her. She took another step forward. “Very well Daenerys, I think there has been a misunderstanding…”

Again Daenerys cut her off. “What have I done to make you think so little of me? Did you think I would deny your request? Or are you just so used to killing and taking from the shadows that you no longer have any basic manners?”

This time it was pain that passed over Arya’s tight features, the remnants of her slight smile long forgotten. In the depths of her mind she took a small measure of joy from hurting the woman who was hurting her so deeply. This pain, losing Amara, it would be like losing her son all over again, only worse, because this time she knew the child. This time she’d cared for, nurtured, played with and taught the child. She told her bedtime stories, and reassured her when she thought the wind outside her window was something far more sinister.

“I’ve told her about you, you know,” Daenerys said with a private smile, recalling how happy Amara was each time Dany told her bedtime stories that involved the brave, strong wolf who helped bring her home. She was so lost in her thoughts she almost didn’t hear it, a curse in a foreign tongue. It was barely more than a breath on the air between them but Daenerys thought she heard Valyrian. Surely her ears must be deceiving her. “She knows of the wolf who brought her to the castle. I told her that you loved her and protected her before she got here and that you chose me over all the other people in the world to be Amara’s mother. When she asks about where you are, I tell her you are out in the world, protecting everyone, keeping her safe.” The Queen scoffed and took a moment to compose herself. “Not exactly the truth is it? Then again, it’s probably not best for her young ears to hear that her mother kills people, don’t you think?” 

The pain she felt this time not only was visible it stayed in place. Arya no longer hid behind her masks of indifference and for that Daenerys was glad. She was glad Arya was in as much pain as she was. It was a small comfort, but better than nothing. 

“She asks if she’d ever see you again and I tell her I’m not certain. She will be pleased by this then, pleased to learn she’ll be with you again, the brave, strong wolf I described.” After a period of quiet where neither woman seemed to know what to say Daenerys added, “She adores the wooden wolf you sent. She’s received gifts from all over the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, fancy dresses, elaborate games, golden toys, trinkets, anything and everything you can imagine has been sent here to curry favor with the Young Dra…” she stopped, “excuse me, the Young Wolf, and still that wooden toy is her favorite, she insists it sleep with her, to keep the bad dreams away.” 

She looked to Arya, expecting to see a smile or some sign of recognition, perhaps happiness that her gift was chosen by the girl over far more expensive offerings, but she still wore that same pained expression as before. Why Daenerys couldn’t begin to understand. Wasn’t she about to get exactly what she wanted? Wouldn’t that please her? 

“If you’d simply asked I would have returned her,” Daenerys said honestly. “It would have hurt me, hurt me worse than I’ve ever been hurt, but I’d have done it, because Amara is your daughter and if you want her with you, then that is how it should be.” She looked Arya up and down again, taking notice of the armor that had up until then not been discussed. “You didn’t need to creep in at night, kill one of my guards, gain access to the keep and then steal back your daughter.”

The look of pain that deepened on Arya’s scarred face led Daenerys to believe she was right on target with her assessment. “A simple raven informing us you were coming would have been sufficient, but I guess you have your own ways of doing things don’t you Stark?” she spat the last line with venom. Suspecting this would be their last encounter she felt no need to be noble, or diplomatic. Tears once again welled up in her eyes as she imagined saying goodbye to the girl she loved as a daughter. “Will you permit me to say goodbye to her at least? Now that I know of your intentions?” 

The tension in the room was thick and the quiet hung in the air, like the dragon banners lining the walls. Neither spoke for long seconds that accumulated to a minute and then two, and still it stretched on. “Well?” Daenerys asked, clearly annoyed. “Can I say goodbye to Amara at least?”

“Oh am I finally permitted to speak, your Grace?” she asked, this time layering the title with the upmost contempt. 

“You’ve been permitted to speak since we came into this room,” Daenerys countered. 

With a bitter laugh Arya stared defiantly at the Queen. “Have I really?” 

Without showing it on the outside, Daenerys went back in her mind through the conversation. With a shock she realized the assassin might have a point. Twice she’d tried to speak and twice Daenerys interrupted her. Rather than admit her error to a woman who was taking her most valuable possession she only nodded and said, “You may speak.” She spoke in a voice typically reserved for her time sitting on her uncomfortable throne, it was a tone that was cold, detached, regal and powerful. 

When Arya’s words weren’t immediately forthcoming Daenerys wanted to lash out but she squeezed her fists tighter, her fingernails digging into her palms as she struggled to control her fury. This woman was Amara’s mother and for that reason alone she would tolerate her.

“I didn’t come here to take Amara from you. I didn’t even plan to see her. I was sent by the House of Black and White. I was following a trader and he led me here, to King’s Landing and to the keep within.”

Immediately Daenerys realized just how wrong she’d been. Guilt started in her toes and filled the rest of her quickly until she was certain waves of it were leaking from her long braided hair. The first time Arya paused to breathe Daenerys pounced. “Arya, I’m so sorr…”

This time it was she who was cut off. “My turn to speak now, Daenerys,” she said harshly, leaving no room for debate. It didn’t go unnoticed that Arya hadn’t used her title, and she likely knew why. ‘Such titles aren’t required for thieves,’ she’d said. She looked down at her shoes in shame. No one had spoken to her so rudely in a long time, certainly not since she became a Queen, and it humbled her into remaining silent until she heard everything Arya had to say. 

“I snuck into the keep because I didn’t want to involve you or Amara in any of this business. I chose her door simply because it was the one closest to Marten Baxter’s. One moment I was considering scaling the ledge outside the window and the next I’m standing over her bed. She was so beautiful, so pure I couldn’t move. I felt like a Northern oak, standing there, rooted to the ground just staring at what was right in front of me and nothing else. Then you came in.

Arya finished and Daenerys was quick to try and apologize again. “Arya I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Yes you did,” Arya challenged. “I suspect you don’t say many things you don’t mean.” 

For the second time the Northerner had her looking to the floor to avoid showcasing her embarrassment. In an attempt to find a subject they could peacefully discuss Daenerys brought up the murder the other woman intended to commit. “So you’ve come for Baxter then?”

“Worry not,” Arya said quickly. “I’ll be gone by sunrise. If the Many Faced God truly wishes him dead, He will provide me with another time and another place to give the trader the Gift.” 

It was in this moment that Daenerys realized just how deeply she’d wounded the Wolf. She hurried to remedy that as best she could, although she knew her chances were slim after the things she’d said. “That’s unnecessary. I have no love for the man, he simply came and offered coins in exchange for protection. I can rescind that protection now if you wish.” 

“Keep your coins your Grace,” she answered without emotion. 

With their conversation clearly over, at least in Arya’s mind, she pivoted toward the door. As she moved, the oversized armor rattled slightly and to Daenerys’s surprise the assassin’s steps stopped short. She turned back to look at the Queen and grey eyes met violet. One set apologetic, the other completely void of forgiveness. Without a word she began stripping off the Unsullied armor while Daenerys was frozen in shock. “Arya, what are you doing?” she managed to ask just after the breastplate was laid on the small table that held the weapons from earlier. 

Daenerys thought herself clever, she thought herself intelligent, maybe not as book-smart as some, but her life experience gave her plenty to draw from and still she couldn’t say what she was watching as Arya stripped off the armor one piece at a time. When the woman’s breastplate was removed, Daenerys saw the thin, toned figure underneath. Only a thin tattered, blood stained strip covered her breasts while the remainder of her upper body was exposed. Daenerys didn’t look out of a desire to embarrass the woman, but she couldn’t help it. Nearly every inch of the tanned skin was littered with scars. They came in all shapes and sizes and ran in nearly every direction. It was strangely captivating. Her eyes were pulled away when she heard more steel hitting the pile. 

When she was finished she stood nearly naked, a band of barely concealing fabric covered her breasts. It was dotted with small holes and stained by blood and other things Daenerys didn’t want to consider. On the bottom half she wore what Daenerys could only assume had once been pants. They didn’t extend past Arya’s knees and like the top half, did a poor job of concealing what lay underneath. In addition to even more scars Daenerys noticed a bulge in one of the pockets, sticking out crudely. Arya must have noticed her looking at it, because she reached into that pocket and pulled out something the Queen couldn’t see. She set it on the table, on top of the Unsullied shield, just as she’d done with the armor. “That is a gift for Amara. You don’t have to give it to her, and if you do, you don’t need to tell her it’s from me.” 

Daenerys thought the gesture sweet and used it as a hopeful peace offering. “I’m sure she’ll love it.” 

Arya scoffed openly, another sound that wasn’t common since she was named Queen. “I wouldn’t be so sure your Grace. Who’d want a gift from a killer? But I suppose it’s your choice, you are her mother.” Unlike all the other times Arya called her Amara’s mother, this time was empty of any warmth. 

With that she once again moved for the door. Daenerys hurried behind her. “Arya when I said that...”

One more time she was interrupted. “You were absolutely right, about everything, and if I were you I wouldn’t want your daughter within a thousand paces of me either.”

She was standing in the hall nearly nude when she seemed to recall something else she needed to say. Daenerys held a sliver of hope that she could salvage what she’d destroyed so thoroughly. “I can take Nymeria with me when I go if you wish?”

Daenerys’s mind raced as she tried to remember all the women in her employ. Who was Nymeria and why would Arya assume she wanted her gone? “Nymeria?” she was finally forced to ask. 

“The direwolf that sleeps at your daughter’s bedside.”

Understanding dawned on her face, followed quickly by a smile that Arya didn’t reciprocate. “So you did send her,” she began. “She gave us quite a start when she showed up on the castle grounds but Amara adores her and even I and some of my advisors have taken a liking to her as well.” 

“I didn’t send her, she likely could just sense the Stark blood.” Daenerys was instantly fascinated. Could the beast really do that? Really detect a child’s bloodline from Gods know how far away? “I’ll take her with me if you wish.”

“No she doesn’t need to go,” Daenerys said quickly, sensing Arya was preparing to disappear, “and you don’t either. Why don’t you stay for a day or two? You can rest here and visit with Amara. She’d love it and it would give you a chance to see how much she’s grown.” Knowing her presence would only complicate the issue she was quick to add, “I wouldn’t be there, if that’s your concern. You’re here Arya, she’s here, don’t waste it.” 

“No,” she answered simply, moving down the corridor. Daenerys chased after her, fully aware of how foolish they’d look, the nearly naked assassin covered in scars and her in her royal dress. She could only imagine what those gossips at court would say if they could see her now. 

“Arya please,” Daenerys said gently as she reached out, putting her hand on the woman’s forearm, taking note of a long, thin, scar that lay under her fingers. 

She pulled her hand back as if she’d been burned and for once Daenerys didn’t have to wonder if it was her dragon blood. One look at Arya Stark made it clear it was hate and nothing else that motivated her actions. “You should get that guard back his armor,” she said as they stepped out into the cool night air. “You’ll find him in an alley behind the Street of Steel.”

“He’s alive?” she asked before she could stop herself and at once she regretted the words. “I didn’t…”

“Forget it,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Goodbye Daenerys Targaryen”

At that moment one of the servants noticed her outside and rushed to her aid. “Is something the matter, your Grace?” she asked with concern. Daenerys turned away to address the girl for only a moment, but it was enough time for Arya to disappear, leaving the Queen in the cold with her regret. 

R-C

“I have to do something,” Daenerys said to Missandei as together they searched for a hiding Amara. Hide and seek had recently become the young royal’s favorite pass time, much to everyone’s dismay. As they cleared yet another room Daenerys sighed dramatically and Missandei offered a helpful laugh. “I never realized how many rooms this place had, until Amara started with this game.” 

“I marvel at how creative she is. She’s adept at hiding your Grace, choosing strange closets and forgotten dusty rooms. Most children hide under the bed and nowhere else.” 

“She must get that from her mother,” Daenerys said quietly as she chose another room and hoped it would be the last. When the other woman raised an inquisitive eyebrow, silently asking for more details, Daenerys sighed and threw up her hands. “Not me, her other mother. That woman could hide in a shadow.”

“Perhaps she passed down her skills to Amara,” Missandei said teasingly. “Has she responded to your latest note?” 

Daenerys stopped searching for a moment and shook her head. “No, I’ve sent three, each one apologizing for my error and my harsh words, but she hasn’t seen fit to reply.” 

With a comforting hand on her shoulder Missandei tried to help. “Perhaps she is just busy. You released Baxter from your protection, she may still be hunting for him.”

Both women returned to their hunt, moving to the kitchen. “I’m not so sure,” Daenerys confessed, lowering her voice to a whisper, aware of the ears listening all around them. “It’s been months. You didn’t see the hurt on her face. I said some vile things to a woman who gave me so much. If I were her I’m not certain I’d talk to me either.”

“You were upset, it was a misunderstanding,” Missandei said quickly, coming to her friend’s defense like no other, as she always did. 

One by one they checked the cabinets, until one of the serving girls, with a messy mass of brown hair and big doe like eyes offered the Queen a kind smile, as she subtly pointed to a long thin closet in the corner of the room. Daenerys looked to it and then back to the girl. The girl nodded as her smile grew. Daenerys looked over her shoulder at Missandei and they both chuckled. Around the room various members of the staff joined in, but they worked to keep quiet, covering their mouths with their hands or feigning a cough. Daenerys made a note to reward that girl somehow, a better job perhaps, a better place to live, more coins, she didn’t know exactly but she’d think of something. What she did know is that without the girl’s help she never would have noticed that closet at all, and she certainly wouldn’t have checked inside. Mercifully the game was about to end. 

She couldn’t wait until Amara was obsessed with a different game, one that required less wandering around the keep. With Missandei in tow she walked up to the closet, passing a tray of freshly baked cookies. “You know Missandei it’s a shame we can’t find Amara. The castle is so big that by the time we find her all these nice warm cookies will probably be gone.” Daenerys looked to her friend and saw she had a hand over her mouth to keep from laughter inside, Daenerys too was fighting the urge. “If only I knew where she was, I’d let her have one cookie before dinner… too bad we can’t find her.” 

From inside the closet, with the door still closed they heard a muffled offer. “Two cookies.”

The entire kitchen, staff and royalty alike erupted into laughter. “Deal now come out here, before I let Drogon eat all of them.”

With a laugh of childish glee, she erupted from the closet and bounced straight into her mother’s waiting arms. Missandei watched nearby with a smile. As the cook handed out the two cookies she bargained for Amara took them, looking rather pleased with herself. The trio left the kitchen workers to their duties. 

In the hall Amara held one cookie in each hand. She took a bite from one and then the other, as if she were comparing them. She held one up to Missandei. “Two cookies,” she announced happily.

The adults laughed while Amara rushed ahead, stopping to take bites at random moments. “That was very diplomatic of her, negotiating for more cookies. She must get that from her mother too.” 

The Dragon Queen looked at her friend as if she had lost her mind. “Missandei I highly doubt Arya was ever described as…”

A hand reached out and touched hers. “I wasn’t speaking of Arya, but her other mother.” Daenerys felt a wave of pride rush through her. Perhaps she too was shaping who Amara would one day become. She could only hope. 

R-C

Daenerys was exhausted. At Tyrion’s urging she set up a day once every few months when commoners could speak to their Queen, to ask for something they felt the city needed, to settle a grievance or in rare cases just meet the fabled Queen of Dragons and thank her for all she’d done since she took the throne. Daenerys personally enjoyed meeting her subjects but these days were always taxing, no matter how much she wanted to be connected to her people. 

It wasn’t a foolproof system of course, anyone who wanted an audience had to be checked for weapons, and wait in a long line, and although she tried it was impossible for her to get through all of them in a single day, so many went away without their issues being heard. 

She glanced out the stained glass window and could see the sun sinking lower in the sky, confirming that her day was nearly done. Taking a deep breath, she instructed the next person be brought in. When the doors opened Daenerys tensed, assuming there was a problem. An Unsullied stood before her and professionally marched to a spot in front of the throne where he removed his helmet and took a knee. Daenerys immediately feared the worst. “Is it Amara? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing is wrong your Grace,” he said in a heavy accent. “I wished to speak with you, that is all.”

Although she was relieved that nothing was the matter, she didn’t relax. Usually an Unsullied with an issue goes to Grey Worm who brings the issue to her, they certainly don’t spend hours in a line of common folk under the hot sun just to say a few words to her. She gestured for him to rise.

“What can I do for you?” she asked once he was standing. He was tall, handsome and had thick dark hair that curled slightly at the ends. 

He looked at the ground. “I was… I was the man shamed a month ago at the guard post,” he said in a low voice, as though he wanted as few people to know it as possible. 

It took her a moment but she remembered quickly. Just as Arya had said, they found him in an alley behind a blacksmith. She hadn’t met with him personally then, just instructed Grey Worm to return his armor to him, and despite his insistence, she refused his offers of punishment. Arya was one of the most feared and skilled warriors in the known world, surely any would have fallen prey to her, as he had. He had his life, and a lesson to be more careful in the future. Daenerys knew most who met Arya Stark in a dark alley couldn’t say the same. 

“Yes I remember. Have you healed well? Is there a problem?”

He looked down clearly embarrassed. “I… I’m not … a smart man,” he said as though it were obvious. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. I tried, I tried for days and days but I do not and I hope with mercy you may say why you left this for me.” 

Daenerys did her best to keep her features flat, even though she had no idea what he was talking about. Quick glances to the left and right confirmed that Missandei and Tyrion were just as oblivious. Stepping down from the throne she stood before the man who was much taller than her. He dropped to his knee at once. “Stand,” she ordered and like all her troops he obeyed. “Show me what you have and if I can, I will explain it.” She held out her small hand, with her palm up and waited. 

Slowly, he put his hand under his armor and came out holding a piece of cloth that was clearly wrapped around something with an odd shape. As he set it in her hand the cloth fell away and what was waiting there took Daenerys’s breath away. It was a carving, like Amara’s wolf, only this one was a dragon. It was twice the size of the wolf toy, with wide spread wings and an open mouth about to spit fire or devour dinner. She ran her finger over the intricate detail on the wing. Only then did she remember Arya saying she was leaving a gift for Amara. In the weeks since she’d been so focused on getting a reply to her letters that she’d forgotten all about it. Looking at it now, she couldn’t help but be impressed. It was amazing. 

Tyrion clearing his throat brought her back to the present and she smiled and covered the figure with cloth again. “This was a gift for Amara,” she told the worried soldier. “It must have been mixed up with your things before Grey Worm brought them back to you. I’m sorry for the confusion, but there is nothing to worry about, no lesson to learn, it was my mistake.” 

The man smiled at this. “Good. I’m glad. Amara will surely like it, I took good care of it.” 

She smiled back at him. “I thank you for that. Amara will love it, and I’ll make sure she knows who brought it back for her.” 

“That is good. Amara will like the baby dragon too.”

“The baby?” she wondered aloud. 

With a careful touch the soldier reached out and peeled back not only part of the cloth but the whole thing, exposing the entire dragon and a large wooden dragon egg. Just like the rest, the attention to detail was meticulous. She hadn’t seen a dragon egg since hers hatched and it made her heart speed up in her chest to see one now, even one made of wood. “It comes apart,” he told her and when she didn’t move he reached for the top half of the egg. She tensed, afraid he’d brake it, but it separated from the base easily, revealing a much smaller dragon sitting inside. 

“Thank you for bringing this back to me,” she told him sincerely. “You’re absolutely right, Amara will love it.” 

After a quick glance over his shoulder at the doors he looked to the Queen. “I will go now, there are others.” 

She thanked him again and he left, leaving her with the cloth wrapped dragons. When he was gone she returned to her seat. “Well, that was certainly the most interesting visitor we’ve had today. I’m not certain how the next one will possibly compete with the return of a lost toy.” Ignoring Tyrion’s jest, she carefully wrapped up the gifts and set them aside for later. 

For the rest of the day the toys sat next to the throne, taunted her, watching over as she listened to pleas, settled disputes and even agreed to pay for a poor man’s funeral since his family couldn’t afford it. It was just one more piece of evidence that she needed to find a way to fix things with Arya, as if she didn’t already know that. 

R-C

She was telling Amara yet another bedtime story about wolves and dragons. She was becoming better at it with practice and the tales grew more elaborate each night. She’d even begun picking up where she left off the night before, rather than crafting a whole new story each time. Amara liked this better, and it was far easier on Daenerys too since she was running out of ideas. Nymeria was curled up at the foot of the bed, protective as ever and Daenerys wished the beast could talk, maybe she’d have some insight on how she might be able to sway the Stark and gain her forgiveness. On top of the bed, the little girl had just slipped into sleep, clutching her wooden wolf in one hand and the baby dragon in the other. The dragon egg, and the full size dragon were on a shelf behind the bed, ready to be played with as soon as she woke up. 

There was a gentle knock on the door and Daenerys looked up to see Missandei. “Sorry to interrupt,” she whispered. It was well known in King’s Landing that Queen Daenerys’s nightly routine with her daughter could only be interrupted by serious, urgent royal business. 

Once they were in the hallway with a door closed between them and the sleeping girl Missandei elaborated. “Sorry to interrupt your time with Amara, but you just received a package.” 

Daenerys was quick to ease her friend’s guilt. “She was already asleep, don’t worry. A package?” she asked with a yawn. “I’m tired Missandei can this wait until tomorrow?” 

“I think you’ll want to see this one tonight, your Grace, especially since it comes from Braavos.” 

Daenerys was immediately more awake. “Is it really from her?” she asked, as they hurried together side by side. 

“There is no doubt.” 

Excitement bubbled up inside her. It had taken nearly half a year, but finally, finally there was contact. Recently she’d begun to fear something had happened to the scarred woman. Her life wasn’t free of dangers and even the most skilled can fall in battle, Daenerys knew. She hated the thought of never seeing her again, of properly apologizing in person or of Amara never getting to meet her and understand who she is. She sent monthly ravens, but none of her letters had been acknowledged before now. 

The room with the delivery was empty and Missandei stood at the door and allowed Daenerys to go in alone. It was a large chest with a thick lock, but the lock was broken and not recently. She approached it quickly and felt a chill as she put her hand on the top. Opening it she expected another gift for Amara but instead she found a collection of jewels, coins and gold in all shapes and sizes. There was a spattering of red across the valuables that Daenerys knew well. It was blood, dried blood. She’d seen this frequently when she was riding with the Khal. Offerings coated in blood. Someone made an offer, and it wasn’t enough to save his life. Whoever had owned this chest was dead. 

Barely visible in the mountain of coins was the corner of a page. She pulled on it but it was wedged so deep that she couldn’t free it. With one hand she pushed some of the coins aside, while she managed to wrangle the paper loose with the other. One look at it and she knew who it was from and she knew who was dead. Arya had found Marten Baxter and just as she thought, his coins couldn’t save him. 

She read the message, hoping for good news but mentally preparing for bad. 

Enjoy the fruits of your labor my Queen, you did keep him safe for a time.

Throwing her head back in frustration she released a yell that echoed around her. She resisted the urge to crumple up the page and toss it across the room, but not by much. Reading the letter a second time, she could almost hear the sarcastic tone of the Wolf’s voice in her ear. Apparently it was going to take more than a few letters to apologize to Arya Stark. 

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> There it is, I have officially posted everything I've written so far. I'll update as quickly as my health allows, but I really have no idea when or how frequently that will be. Thank you to anyone who reads this. 
> 
> More to come. Can’t have them angry at each other forever. 
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> Russell Craig


	5. Chapter 5

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms sought out her daughter, following the sound of the laughter down one corridor and then the next. Both Jorah and Tyrion tried to stop her to discuss various royal issues but she waved them aside. Matters of the throne could wait. 

If she hadn’t heard it so many times before it might have frightened her to hear the low growl mixed in with Amara’s happy cries. She followed the rapid footsteps and arrived at the top of the staircase just in time to see her daughter attempt to tackle the beast more than twice her size. For her part Nymeria allowed this to happen without complaint, even as small hands gripped her fur to keep from falling. 

Amara was aging quickly. Nearly three years old she was growing taller and smarter each day, much to her mother’s delight. Almost weekly she was learning new words and phrases in both High Valyrian and the common tongue. The older she became the more of Arya Daenerys could see in the child. Her grey eyes seemed bottomless while her face lost its chubbiness in favor of sharp, angular features. Her hair remained dark, despite the Southern sun, even if she insisted the tresses be braided to match her silver haired mother each and every morning. 

She remained silent at the top of the stairs and watched with a smile. She allowed Amara and Nymeria to play together for as long as she could until she was forced to intercede. “Amara, our guests will be arriving soon. Go to your room and get ready. Aunt Missandei will be there to help. She has a pretty new dress already laid out for you.” 

Looking up from the stone where she lay half under the direwolf Amara grinned at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Mama,” she shouted before she righted herself and rushed up the stairs for a hug. Daenerys was more than happy to oblige and took the steps two at a time to meet her in the middle. 

“Hi sweetheart,” she said as she kissed the top of her head. “Are you and Nymeria having fun?” She squeezed the nodding girl in her arms before she set her down on the step below her. “Go to your room and get ready, Aunt Missandei is probably waiting for you.” 

“Okay mama,” she answered, racing up the remainder of the steps and disappearing around the corner. 

She stared after her until she heard the whimper from down below. Turning her head, she saw Nymeria lying on her stomach looking almost sad. With a humorless chuckle she stepped aside, making room for the animal to pass. “Oh,” she groaned, “you can go too.” 

The wolf didn’t need to be told twice, popping up on four legs and darting up the stairs after the tiny girl she adored. Just as she’d done with Amara Daenerys watched her go, marvelling at how intelligent the animal was. Sometimes she truly believed Nymeria understood exactly what was being said around her. 

R-C

Daenerys found Tyrion in the Hand’s Tower going over the most recent scrolls to have arrived. A book was open on the desk next to him as if he’d set it down intending to turn the page and had forgotten all about it. Likewise a bottle of wine waited on the corner, next to an unused goblet. “Bad news?” she asked casually when he didn’t look up. 

He offered her an indulgent smile, making him look years younger. “Nothing more than usual.” With a small thick hand, he gestured to the chair opposite him. “What brings you to my corner of the Realm, your Grace?” 

“We need to speak privately,” she told him seriously. “The closer we are to the throne room the more ears the walls seem to have.” 

The Lannister nodded in agreement. “Exactly why I avoid the place as much as possible. Few bother me up here.” She raised a delicate eyebrow in response, but said nothing. Tyrion was quick to amend his comment. “Present company excluded of course.” 

She bit her lip to keep from grinning. “Of course.” 

“So how can I help the Queen this afternoon?” 

“We need to speak before our guests arrive,” she informed him bluntly. 

There was a subtle shift in his voice as he grew wary. “What about?” 

“Amara.” 

She could tell she had Tyrion’s full attention. “What of the Little Dragon?” 

For a moment she said nothing, using the time instead to choose her words. “No matter what happens or what questions are asked, I want to ensure no one speaks of Amara’s true parentage.”

“Of course not, your Grace,” he promised. “The whole of the Seven Kingdoms believe you gave birth to Amara in secret, just as we hoped they would. No questions remain.” 

“Will you find it difficult to maintain the lie if Sansa Stark is the one asking the questions?” 

He tilted his head to the side, reaching for the wine. “I adore Sansa, you know I do, but my loyalty is to you Daenerys.” 

“Amara is growing to look more and more like Arya each day. I wonder how much longer we can continue to deceive everyone?” 

Looking rather smug Tyrion raised the freshly poured wine to his lips. “I realize you’re new to politics Daenerys but if you learn nothing else from me, learn this, we can deceive everyone for as long as we need to.” 

“We can?”

“It’s the Westerosi way,” he assured her. 

R-C

Daenerys stood behind Amara with her hand on the girl’s shoulder as the Northerners rode into the keep. As far as parties go this was one of the smallest Daenerys had ever seen. Sansa Stark had only a contingent of four soldiers, and a single handmaiden. She brought no advisors and none of her court. Perhaps it was true what Tyrion always told her, the North really did have its own way of doing things. 

Daenerys watched her closely as she dismounted her midnight colored horse. Was it her imagination or did the red haired woman tense as she looked at the keep before her? “Lady Stark, how was your journey?”

With a quick blink of her eyes she looked away from the castle and to the Mother of Dragons. She knelt formally until Daenerys instructed her to stand. “The trip was fine your Grace, we had good weather most of the way.” 

“And how are things in the North?” 

“Peaceful, your Grace.”

“Lady Stark please allow me to introduce my daughter Amara Targaryen.” 

“Of course,” Sansa said with a warm smile. “It’s very nice to meet you Amara.” Suddenly shy she turned away from their guest and buried her face in her mother’s dress. While Daenerys watched, Sansa reached into the saddlebag her horse still wore and removed a neatly wrapped gift. “Amara I have a present for you, would you like to open it?”

The promise of presents made Amara brave and she turned to face Sansa again. As her hand reached out to pass the gift she got her first real look at her niece’s face and her body went rigid in response. The gift she was holding shook slightly as her hand trembled and Daenerys wondered what the other woman was thinking. Could she already see past the lies and straight to the truth? 

Amara taking the package seemed to force Sansa from her thoughts and she offered her relative a kind smile. “What do you say to Lady Sansa Amara?” 

Grey eyes looked up at her mother before she turned to the Stark and answered. “Tank you.”

Squatting down to even her height to Amara’s, Sansa’s smile grew. “You’re very welcome. I hope you like it.”

R-C

Once inside Daenerys allowed Sansa and her associates time to rest before dinner. She took the time to meet with Ser Jorah and discuss the security of the Northern Queen and her party. 

“Did she suspect?” he asked as soon as she appeared in the doorway. “Did she recognize Amara?”

“I’m not certain,” Daenerys admitted. “It doesn’t matter, even if she suspects it would be impossible to prove.” 

“I can keep them apart,” he offered, reaching out to put a hand on her arm. “Amara can move into the room next to mine for the remainder of Sansa’s visit, and I’ll keep her busy so the Stark has little time to realize who she is.” She opened her mouth to speak but apparently Jorah wasn’t finished. “Tyrion is eager to catch up with Sansa as well, so I’m sure between the two of us we can keep her and Amara apart.” 

Since the day she announced Amara’s existence to the world Daenerys had been forced to watch as people attempted to use her daughter to get closer to her. Some nobles brought fancy gifts for Amara to accompany their marriage proposals and others offered to foster her in their homes so Daenerys could spend more time ruling her kingdoms. She always hated being manipulated but when her daughter was made a tool in that endeavor it infuriated her more. She didn’t approve no matter who was doing it, but it was worse when it was someone close to her. Jorah seemed convinced that Amara was the key to Daenerys’s heart and while he might have been right in that regard, it couldn’t help feelings grow where none existed. 

She pulled her arm out from under his rough hand. “We will do nothing of the such. Lady Stark is my guest and you will treat her accordingly. In addition to that, she’s also Amara’s aunt, even if she doesn’t realize it. She’s family.”

He scoffed. “Family? Arya Stark isn’t her mother any more than I’m her father,” Jorah countered rudely. “You don’t owe it to her to pretend otherwise.” 

“You’re wrong,” Daenerys replied confidently before she turned her back on her knight. “I owe her more than I’ve ever owed anyone.” On her way to the door she added, “Meet with Grey Worm and ensure we have the required soldiers to guarantee the safety of our guests, I won’t allow harm to come to Sansa while she’s here.” 

Daenerys was already out the door and moving down the hall when she heard him say, “Of course, your Grace.” 

R-C

After a quick chat with Missandei Daenerys went in search of her daughter, desperate to confirm she didn’t dive into a mud puddle or roll around on a dusty floor before their dinner. She found her sitting in Sansa’s lap as they spoke together like old friends. 

“I like your hair,” Sansa was saying. “It’s very pretty.” 

“Like mama,” she answered, making Sansa chuckle lightly. 

“Yes it’s exactly like your mama’s,” she agreed. “It’s very beautiful.” 

Amara reached up and touched the older woman’s bright red hair, before her hand slipped down to the white fur shall that hung over her shoulders. “Why?” she asked, touching the hide, pushing her fingers through it slowly, testing its feel. 

To answer her Sansa removed the fur and set it across Amara’s tiny shoulders. “My home is very cold,” she explained gently. “This keeps me warm.” 

Pulling the shall around her tighter Amara confirmed she understood what the adult was telling her. “Brrr…” she said as she pretended to shiver. Again her niece managed to make Sansa laugh.

“That’s right, it’ll keep you warm.” 

Moving on to a new topic as quickly as only children can Daenerys heard Amara mumble something to her newest friend. Sansa cocked her head to the side and looked down at her curiously. “What sweetheart?” 

Only after she repeated her request did Daenerys understand what her daughter was asking. She stepped forward and made her presence known. “She wants to know if you’ll play hide and seek with her,” the Queen said as she came to stand inside the door. “Its presently her most favorite game.” 

“Your Grace,” Sansa said in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were there.” Her blush turned her cheeks the color of her hair until someone tugged on her arm to get her attention. Realizing Amara was still waiting for an answer she replied, “Of course we can play hide and seek. I know all the best hiding places in this castle,” she promised. 

It was only then that Daenerys remembered that Sansa Stark had once lived in the keep. Arya had too if she recalled Tyrion’s lessons on the subject. “Did you and your sister play together when you lived here?” she wondered. 

She thought her question innocent enough, until she saw the unmistakable look of pain crossing Sansa’s beautiful face. “No,” she answered while looking down at Amara. “I didn’t really need to hide until after Arya was gone.”

Feeling guilt for bringing up a painful memory she tried to correct her course. “I’ve heard many stories about your time here with your father and sister.” 

“I assure you Lord Tyrion exaggerates your Grace,” she replied with a knowing smile that Daenerys couldn’t help but mirror. 

A faraway look developed in her eyes and Daenerys was left to wonder what she was thinking of, or when. Her grey eyes turned to the ceiling and Daenerys had no idea what she was looking for, or if she found it. It was quiet for a long time until Sansa said, “My sister learned the sword in this room,” she remembered as she took another look around. “She hated sewing and our father grew tired of trying to force her, so they struck a bargain.” 

Daenerys was fascinated. Since her first meeting with Arya Stark she’d been eager to soak up as much information about the other woman as possible. Now she could learn from perhaps the last living person who could claim she was close to the assassin. “What manner of bargain?” 

“Father said that if she did as the Septa instructed, he’d allow her to learn the sword as she wished.” With a dry chuckle she shook her head. “They called it her ‘dancing lessons’, but typical dancing instructors aren’t former First Swords from Braavos.” 

“She must have been a good student. I heard of your sister’s talents with a blade long before I reached Westeros.” 

Her expression turned rueful. “Arya hated all it meant to be a lady. Our mother tried to force the issue but what she truly wanted was to ride at my father’s side as my brothers did. Nothing about a life at court could appeal to her, but war, that was a temptation she couldn’t resist.” 

“Living a life away from politics certainly has its appeal,” Daenerys admitted as she thought back to her time with the Khal. Then there had been no pretense, no backstabbing or lies. Disputes were settled violently, but always fairly with both parties knowing the risks. 

“In a way I guess Arya got exactly what she wanted,” Sansa supplied. “She’s a wandering nomad now, with a horse and a sword, exactly as she always dreamed.” 

With her many attempts to reach Arya unanswered Daenerys broached another subject that had been on the tip of her tongue since they first met in the courtyard. “Do you hear from your sister often?” 

For a moment she looked as if she wasn’t sure how to answer. “A few times a year I’ll receive a raven or a package but she’s always so vague and cryptic its hard to tell much about what’s going on with her.” 

“Perhaps she doesn’t tell you in an attempt to keep you safe?” 

“Perhaps,” Sansa allowed. 

Before Daenerys had to think of how to respond a servant appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is ready when you are, your Grace.” 

While Daenerys thanked the servant, Sansa stood with Amara in her arms. “Are you hungry?” she asked the little girl, who was still petting the fur shall her aunt had given her. 

“Mmhmm.” 

As soon as she was on her own two feet Amara took off running in the direction of the Great Hall. “You’re very good with her,” Daenerys said as they followed behind at a more reasonable pace. 

“Thank you, your Grace,” she said as she blushed again. “She is a very sweet girl.” 

“Have you helped raise many children?” 

“I helped my mother to raise my little brothers, before we left for the South.” 

Daenerys knew well the story of what happened to the Stark men. She was having such a good time getting to know Sansa that she didn’t want to burden their conversation with too many painful memories. “We should probably hurry, before Amara takes my seat and begins demanding dinner.” 

Sansa’s grey eyes brightened as she laughed. “Does that happen often?” 

“Only about once a week.” 

R-C

During the first days of Sansa’s visit to King’s Landing Daenerys had to admit they hadn’t talked much about their respective kingdoms, choosing instead to spend the time getting to know one another. 

She enjoyed watching the Northern Queen and Amara interact, but kept a close eye on Sansa’s features, fearing a moment of recognition as she sat under an umbrella while the youngest member of her bloodline ran across the courtyard playing a game only she understood. 

When Nymeria returned from a hunt with fresh blood still caked across her muzzle she sprinted to where Amara was playing, nearly knocking over a stunned Sansa in the process. 

She stared at the direwolf as she asked, “W…where did that come from your Grace?”

“I have no idea,” Daenerys said as innocently as she could manage, while Tyrion refilled all three of their glasses with fine wine. “We were out here while Amara was playing one day and she just showed up.” She waited a few moments but Sansa still hadn’t managed to take her eyes off the wolf. “In truth I was going to have it killed, but Amara took an immediate liking to her and the animal is remarkably well behaved.” Sansa stared off into space. “Tyrion tells me such creatures are common in the North.” 

Finally, she managed to look at the others around the table. “I didn’t think any wandered so far South.” 

“By all accounts it seems she is the only one of her kind in the area,” Daenerys said, without knowing if that was precisely true. Both she and Tyrion waited for Sansa to say something but after a time it was clear she was lost to her own thoughts. “Is something the matter Lady Stark?” she questioned gently, fearing the answer. 

She shook her head without looking away from the beast, who was lying on her back, getting her belly scratched by Amara. “No your Grace,” she whispered, looking at the adults again. “She just reminds me of someone is all.” 

Daenerys’s heart sped up in her chest. From the corner of her eye she glanced at Tyrion who was working hard to keep his face expressionless. She didn’t need to ask who Sansa was being reminded of because Daenerys knew. She too noticed the similarities each time Amara said or did anything new. 

Getting up from his chair Tyrion held out his arm for his former wife. “Lady Sansa you must join me in the Hand’s Tower and tell me all about the goings on in your kingdom. King’s Landing has need of goods from the North but your gracious Queen insists I am no longer allowed to swindle anyone. Apparently it’s bad manners if I take what I want without first striking a fair bargain.”

Daenerys wasn’t sure she’d ever been so grateful for Tyrion’s ability to change the subject as effortlessly as he did. He sounded perfectly natural and at ease, while she was certain her heart was just seconds away from breaking through her ribcage. When Sansa looked to her for approval Daenerys offered a polite smile before the younger woman stood. “Of course Lord Tyrion,” she said, taking his arm. 

Always just a little too proud of himself Tyrion glanced over his shoulder, caught Daenerys’s eye and winked. She favored him with an appreciative smile before she too got up from her chair and headed out into the sun to play with Amara and Nymeria. 

R-C

On the final day of her visit Daenerys once again found Sansa watching Amara with an odd expression. This time Amara was growling like the wolf she loved so deeply, as she chased after the animal. Although she was yet to succeed she was attempting to grab Nymeria’s tail in her small, uncoordinated hands. 

“Everything alright Lady Stark?”

“Oh yes, of course your Grace,” she said as her cheeks filled with blood. “Just lost in a memory.” 

The Dragon put a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that coming here to visit with us has brought up so many difficult memories for you. I know as well as anyone how powerful a painful past can be and I do not wish that upon you.”

“That is very kind your Grace,” she said setting one of her hands over top of Daenerys’s. “This time though it was a happy memory.” 

Daenerys was surprised to hear this but tried to keep that fact hidden. “Will you share it with me?” she asked. “If it’s not too personal.” 

“Of course. I was just watching Amara chase after the wolf and it reminded me of the pets my siblings and I used to have. They are all dead now, but we raised them and trained them ourselves. We each had one.”

“Your family suffered plenty, far more than you deserved by most accounts.” 

“The same could be said of your family,” she said as she blinked rapidly several times. “When we lived here my sister’s dance instructor insisted she learn to catch wild cats before she be permitted to practice swordplay. I recall her coming home each night filthier than the last as she chased those mangy strays all over the city.” Nearby Daenerys couldn’t help but smile at the image the story invoked.

“Did she ever catch one?” she inquired, suspecting she already knew the answer. 

“She did. Arya could do almost anything, as long as it wasn’t taught by the Septa.” 

Picturing the assassin in her mind Daenerys had no trouble believing that to be true. “Well the next time you speak with your sister, please let her know you visited here and that Amara and I asked about her.”

“I will your Grace.” 

R-C

When Amara realized Sansa intended to leave she was heartbroken. Big tears streaked down her face as she clung to Sansa’s dress with both hands. Daenerys and the Queen in the North attempted to console her by promising that they’d see each other again soon, but her cries wouldn’t cease. 

While Daenerys struggled with how to console her daughter Sansa had no doubts. She sank down to Amara’s level, right there in the dirt, not seeming to notice the stains forming on her knees. Wiping the tears away with a gentle thumb she kissed Amara’s forehead then the tip of her nose, causing a smile to form against the sobs. “I’ll see you soon,” she promised. “Maybe you and your mama can come visit me in Winterfell.” 

When Sansa looked to the Queen for confirmation of her idea Daenerys couldn’t hold back her smile. “We would love that. I’ll ensure Tyrion puts something on the calendar in the coming months.” 

“I’ll see you soon,” Sansa promised Amara as she stood. With one final kiss set on the crown of her dark hair Sansa mounted her horse. “Thank you for the hospitality your Grace,” she said formally. Her smile turned almost devious as she added, “It was by far some of my best memories of King’s Landing.” 

“Travel safely Lady Stark. Be well.” 

R-C

Missandei and Daenerys stood together whispering while Amara got ready for bed. “Are you certain?” Missandei asked. 

“I don’t like the idea of leaving her, but she’s too young to join me on Drogon’s back and travelling by boat would take months.” 

“Can it not wait?” she wondered. “By this time next year Amara will be able to journey with you safely.” 

“I’ve waited long enough. She hasn’t made contact since sending the chest of gold and it can’t continue this way. If I am to have any hope of earning her forgiveness I’ll need to do it in person, and soon.” Daenerys looked to Amara and smiled at the little girl nearly lost under all her blankets. “Take care of Amara for me and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“I’ll protect her with my life,” Missandei vowed seriously. “What shall I tell the others?”

Daenerys knew why she was asking. If they knew the truth none of them would approve. Grey Worm would insist she take some of his finest Unsullied, Tyrion would remind her of her duty to the Realm and Jorah would be furious she was choosing to seek out Arya after all that had happened. “Tell them you don’t know where I’ve gone. I’ll be back before they truly have a chance to miss me.” 

“How will you convince her to return with you?”

“I have an idea,” Daenerys said cryptically as she pushed off the wall and approached Amara’s bed. Sitting on the bottom corner she reached up and adjusted a pillow under her head. “Amara, mama needs to go away for a few days with Drogon. You be good for Aunt Missandei and Uncle Tyrion, mind your manners and do as you’re told.”

She looked at her mother with big grey eyes. “I go?” she asked adorably, making Daenerys almost consider taking her along. 

“Not this time sweetie, but mama will bring back a present for you.” When it looked like she might cry Daenerys quickly dropped a kiss onto her cheek, making a loud smacking sound that never failed to amuse the girl. “Next time you can come with me, I promise.” 

With a big yawn that stretched the limits of her jaw Amara sank even deeper under the covers. “Okay mama,” she allowed as her eyelids grew heavy and each blink lasted longer than the previous one. 

“Promise to be good for Aunt Missandei,” Daenerys prompted before she could lose her to sleep completely. 

“Uh-huh,” she replied. 

“Good girl,” Daenerys said, satisfied. Aware that Amara was almost asleep she knew she wouldn’t need a very long story at all. She kept her voice low as she began. “The Dragon was very sorry she hurt the Wolf, but the Wolf wouldn’t let her apologize.” 

R-C

A thick fog hung over Braavos coating everything in its chill. Daenerys wore a heavy black cloak, with the hood up, hoping to keep her identity secret. As she approached the boatman waiting on the shore of a narrow river she picked a few coins from her purse and handed them over. The captain was an older man with greying hair that had once been dark. His skin reminded her of worn leather while the lines around his eyes and lips crinkled as he smiled. “Good day m’lady. Where ‘an I take ya?” 

The truth was she didn’t know. From under her cloak she removed a dark iron coin that was scratched across the face. “Good day Ser. I’m looking for someone.” 

The man’s smile vanished as he took the coin from her and turned it over in her hand. “Valar Dohaeris. I will take you.” As he handed the coin back she climbed aboard his vessel and took a seat. In only seconds he had pushed off away from where he’d docked and was weaving between the cities various islands. 

Upon exiting the boat on the Isle of the Gods Daenerys intended to march straight up to the Weirwood and ebony doors and demand to see Arya but just steps from the shoreline she heard a commotion that demanded her attention. Keeping her hood in place she followed the sounds until she found a crowd gathered around a particularly rocky, unstable looking cliff. As she inched her way closer Daenerys heard the cheers of the crowd. Even before she could see the action for herself, she knew it was some manner of combat. That was the only explanation for the way the collection of people would gasp as one. 

“You’re going to need to do better than that,” a familiar voice taunted with an unmistakable tone of humor. 

Daenerys pushed her way to the front just in time to witness a massive man grunt and take a wild swing with his impressive sword. Arya danced away from the strike as though she were enjoying herself, kicking the man in the back of his wide knee before she slipped out of his reach. 

It was hypnotic the way she never stopping moving. Over and over again she somehow managed to stay just out of his long reach. She rolled, she parried, she sidestepped and she slid, always at the last possible moment, avoiding what would have been a deathblow each time. With every failed attempt her opponent grew more frustrated. As his anger took control it made it even easier for Arya to avoid him. As she dodged a swipe at her throat by doing nothing more than leaning backward Arya earned another roar from the masses. In response her eyes raked across the group, making a show of her focus being on everyone but the angry man. 

She didn’t think Arya could recognize her under her hood but their eyes met and there was no denying the look of surprise that spread like wildfire across her face. Her smile gone now, she waited for her enemy to take one more swing, which she expertly avoided. With a smooth roll she ended up behind the larger man, with her sword pressed firmly to his neck. 

The crowd cheered as the man dropped his weapon in defeat. All around her Daenerys saw people passing money back and forth, clearly having wagered on the battle. After stopping to collect a rather large looking pouch of coins Arya walked straight toward her. “You’re a long way from home Daenerys.”

“I need to speak with you.” As her words left her mouth she could see the subtle tension in the assassin’s body. It lasted only a moment but she was confident she saw genuine worry on her face and she knew why. “Amara’s fine, I just needed to speak with you.” 

“I believe I heard everything you had to say last time we met,” she challenged, reminding Daenerys of how poorly she’d behaved. 

“Please,” she implored. When it didn’t seem Arya was about to relent she opened her closed fist to reveal the coin Arya had given her the day she left Amara in her care. “Please,” she repeated. “I need your help.” 

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing this story. I really wasn’t sure when I started if it this plotline was going to interest anyone but me, but I’m pleased so many people are enjoying it.


	6. Chapter 6

The journey away from the temple was both fast and silent. The same pole man who had brought her was quick to take coins from the scarred assassin for the return trip. Quiet as it was, it wasn’t boring, at least not for Daenerys. She was captivated by the potential violence that seemed to ooze off her companion and the reactions she elicited from others. 

The captain of their small boat looked anywhere but his passengers likely in response to the awkwardness that hung between Daenerys and Arya. When they were once again on dry land Arya led her down a busy street. Daenerys didn’t know where to look, there was suddenly so much to see. Music came from the windows of distant taverns, whores lined the street corners looking for coin and men with hard expressions and large swords wandered about in search of trouble. 

Daenerys had heard plenty about Braavosi nightlife, but this was her first time experiencing it for herself. What intrigued her the most though was the way even the most threatening looking men would step aside as Arya passed. Some nodded politely, which Arya didn’t seem to notice, but most just averted their eyes, looking anywhere but at the harbinger of death. Even the whores took note, but unlike their male counterparts most of the women offered flirty smiles and dainty waves. Daenerys couldn’t help but wonder if any of these clearly interested women knew Arya personally. 

Inside the tavern Arya cut through the crowd as easily as if she were using her sword. She didn’t look back at Daenerys, simply choosing to expect her to follow, which she did. In the darkest corner of the room she approached a table where a man was drinking heavily with a bought and paid for woman on his lap. Grey eyes raked over the man quickly before they moved on to the woman at a slower, leisurely pace. “Go find another table,” she suggested. 

A glance to the left and right confirmed what Daenerys suspected, there were no open tables. Yet the man didn’t hesitate to stand, offering a weak smile before he took his woman by the arm and pulled her into the mass of people. “They are frightened of you,” Daenerys said in a whisper that she could barely hear over the noise. 

She shrugged as if the comment were one she not only heard frequently, but also expected. “Wisely so.” Using her foot, she kicked out a chair from the table and nodded to the Queen. “Sit, it’s dark enough you can remove your hood. I’ll go get some drinks.” 

Daenerys intended to speak by but the time her lips parted Arya was already gone. Taking her seat, she sat with her back to the cool stone wall, providing her a good vantage point of the room. While she watched the crowd for any sign of Arya’s return she removed her hood and quickly ran her fingers through her long hair, in a futile attempt to subdue it. 

She’d been so focused on looking for Arya that she didn’t notice when the handsome stranger approached her from the side. He was dressed in fine clothes that looked out of place in the rough and tumble establishment. Daenerys could tell most of the patrons worked on the docks or the various ships that made port in Braavos. This man was different, an outlier. “Thirsty?” he asked, slurring slightly and taking the chair opposite her before she could refuse. 

In an attempt to be diplomatic she swallowed her annoyance at the man’s assumptions. “I’m fine thank you.” 

Under other circumstances she might have been attracted to the man. He was young with a youthful face and muscular arms. Like most of the men in the tavern he wore a sword on his hip, although Daenerys wondered if he’d ever used it. “I’m Vittorio,” he told her. 

“Dany.” 

Reaching for her hand she allowed him to take it, not expecting him to raise it to his lips in a romantic and wholly inappropriate gesture. “You’re a beautiful woman Dany,” he said without releasing her hand, even as it settled on the wooden tabletop. “You’d look even more beautiful under the moonlight on the helm of my ship.”

“You own a boat then?” she asked without interest as her eyes continued to search for Arya. 

“A fleet actually,” he told her proudly. “Sixteen merchant vessels that travel all over the Free Cities and beyond.” When she didn’t comment he continued, “You should join me. Come, I assure you you’ve never seen a ship finer than mine.” 

Daenerys seriously doubted that to be true, but still said nothing. When the words came they weren’t in her voice, although they did manage to echo precisely what she was thinking. “She already has company,” Arya said standing right next to Vittorio’s chair, leaning threateningly into his space. 

With a scoff he looked to the invader. His eyes started on her scarred face and moved down. Daenerys felt almost uneasy watching him leer at Arya but her tongue was still in her mouth. “Don’t worry sweetheart, you can come too,” he offered, his lips puckering in a potential kiss. “I’m Vittorio and Dany and I were just getting to know one…”

“I don’t care,” she interrupted. “Now stand up and walk away before I lose my patience.” 

Rolling his eyes, he glanced at Daenerys with a smirk. “Your friend is a bitch,” he said between laughs at his own joke. 

Daenerys tried to defuse what was rapidly becoming a dangerous situation. “Let’s stay calm…”

“Stay out of his Daenerys,” Arya barked. 

Offended by her tone Vittorio stood and faced Arya directly. All around them people were taking notice of the potential fight. Like the rest Daenerys was unable to look away. “That is no way to speak to a lady.”

“Stop talking or I’ll take your tongue,” she promised darkly as she emptied her hands of the drinks she was carrying. When Vittorio’s hand hovered near the pommel of his weapon Arya’s stormy eyes lit up with excitement. “Try it, I beg you.” 

With one final look to the woman he foolishly believed he was defending he drew his sword. “I challenge you then.”

“Outside now!” Arya commanded, surprising the man in her eagerness. 

Vittorio kept his sword in one hand as he headed for the door. More than a few of the onlookers fell in line behind him, planning to see the violence up close. Daenerys laid a hand on Arya’s damaged arm. “Arya,” she hissed, “you don’t have to do this.” 

“This isn’t your concern Daenerys. Stay here and drink your wine. It won’t take long.” 

When she attempted to pull away Daenerys tightened her hold. “He’s a foolish, drunken man nothing more.”

“Yes, he is,” she agreed, “but he picked the wrong night and the wrong woman to push.” Daenerys knew it was pointless to try and talk Arya out of this, she had a better chance of convincing the Khal to give up his horse. With few options she stood from her chair and returned the hood to her head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you,” she stated as though it were a decided fact. “If you insist on doing this, I will be there.” 

“Do you realize what is going to happen?” she asked as they moved together for the exit. 

“I’ve seen death before Arya Stark.” 

“Very well then.”

R-C

Arya was more than a little surprised Daenerys wanted to bear witness to the combat. It occurred to her too late that perhaps her intrusion had been unwelcome. Maybe Daenerys had been enjoying his attentions, even if he did seem like an invalid to the assassin. She was hardly in a position to judge. 

Outside a light rain had begun to fall and she watched as Vittorio took exaggerated swings with his sword. “Ready then?”

With a bow to the Queen he didn’t recognize he gave Daenerys a grin. “I shall win in your honor Dany.” 

“Lay down your sword and save your life,” Daenerys suggested with force. 

“Take the lady’s advice,” Arya added. “Valar Dohaeris, and you should go serve somewhere else.”

Unwilling or unable to back down Vittorio raised his sword. “I will do nothing of the kind.”

“Valar Morghulis then,” Arya said as she reached for her blade. 

R-C

The fight, if she could call it that was over before it really began. Daenerys watched from the side as Vittorio took his first and only swing. Even aware of Arya’s skill, having witnessed it near the temple, she heard herself gasp, taking half an involuntary step toward the danger. 

Her concern wasn’t necessary. Just as she’d seen her do earlier, she rolled under the strike and avoided the weapon’s sharp edge. In reply she struck hard, coming down on the man’s sword with all the power in her body, hitting his hand with enough force he couldn’t keep his grip. When the sword hit the dirt, all around her Daenerys heard the murmurs of people predicting death. 

Disarmed, and blushing with embarrassment Vittorio fell to his knees and clasped his hands together in prayer. “Please, mercy.”

Without even acknowledging that she heard him Arya closed the gap between them. When she raised her sword Daenerys heard her voice speaking above the crowd. “Arya please.” 

Looking over her shoulder their eyes met and Arya’s sword lowered slightly. In a flash of movement that Daenerys didn’t see until it was over, Arya swung her blade, cutting Vittorio from his right shoulder to his left hip in a single, fluid stroke. He cried out in agony and immediately toppled backward in a feeble attempt to escape. Arya stepped over him. Even from a distance Daenerys could tell the wound wasn’t deep enough to be mortal. “You’re going to get up out of the dirt, stop crying like a child and go down to the docks. Board that fancy ship of yours and find a new home. I hear the Many Faced God calling your name, if you’re still in Braavos when the sun rises I’ll happily deliver you to him. Do you understand?”

At the mention of his ships Daenerys realized Arya had heard far more of their conversation than she originally realized. She knew she was the reason the assassin didn’t kill him and she was grateful for the restraint. She was no stranger to bloodshed, but that didn’t mean she liked to see it, especially for something as pointless as a drunken fool’s boasting. 

“Y…yes,” he mumbled as he clutched his injury. With that Arya was done, her sword returned to her hip and she passed the defeated man as if he wasn’t even there. Just as she’d seen before, wagers passed back and forth amongst the crowd. Daenerys ignored them and rushed to Arya’s side. The taller woman was heading to the mouth of an alley that led to the back of the tavern. 

When they reached the shadowed trash heap behind the building Daenerys was surprised to find they weren’t alone. Kneeling next to the pile, picking through the scraps was a young girl of less than ten. She had dark skin and the markings of a former slave. Daenerys immediately thought of a younger Missandei. She’d ended slavery in time to save Missandei but not before the strong, intelligent woman had to suffer years of horrific abuse at the hands of her so called ‘Masters.’ 

“I thought I heard someone back here,” Arya said gently, startling the girl. 

She was instantly on alert, rising to her bare feet. “I’m sorry, I was… I was just looking. I wasn’t going to take anything, honest.” 

To her surprise the killer smiled kindly. “You don’t need to eat from the trash tonight,” she told her. Two sets of eyes watched closely as Arya’s calloused hand slipped down to a coin purse she wore. Daenerys recognized it as the winnings she picked up before they left the Isle of the Gods. It was her prize for defeating the bigger man in combat. Without delay she tossed the coins to the girl who was too stunned to actually catch them. The moment the purse hit the ground she was down there beside it, covering it with her hands. “Sleep indoors tonight and get yourself a warm meal.” 

Big green eyes looked up at her savior. “T…thank you m’lady.” 

Daenerys expected her to correct the child, to inform her she wasn’t a lady. Daenerys herself had received the same reprimand during their first meeting when she made the mistake of calling her Lady Stark. But as was her way, she did exactly what Daenerys didn’t expect, simply nodded her acceptance. “You’re welcome.” For a moment Daenerys assumed their conversation was done, but Arya spoke again. “If you ever need coins, you can come and find me at the House of Black and White. Do you know where that is?”

Her eyes got impossibly wider. “You’re one of them?” 

“What’s your name?” Arya asked, not answering the question. 

“Rebekah,” she responded quickly, picking up the purse and hiding it behind her back, as if she expected one of the adults to demand it be returned if they realized she had it. 

“You don’t need to go hungry anymore Rebekah.” Keeping the coins behind her back she stood and wiped the dust and dirt from her ripped pants. “Go on now, I bet you’re hungry.” 

Nodding she took off in a run, nearly knocking them over as she passed. She yelled out her thanks again before she disappeared in the rain and fog. Daenerys was touched by what she’d just seen. Witnessing Arya with Rebekah, the way she helped her without needing to, her kindness and generosity, it only reminded Daenerys of how badly she wanted Arya to be present in Amara’s life. That’s why she’d left her child and flown on a dragon’s back after all. 

“Did she remind you of Amara?” Daenerys couldn’t help but ask as they entered the rear door of the tavern. Their table remained empty and their drinks untouched, even after they’d spent so much time outside. “Is that why you did it?”

The long silence convinced her that she wasn’t going to get an answer, but one more time she had misjudged the Stark. “No,” she said flatly, “she reminded me of someone else.” 

Sipping her wine, she pressed back against the stone wall as she’d done before Vittorio arrived. “Who?” It wasn’t any of her business, she knew, but Daenerys had spent years being a queen and was used to the freedom to ask whatever she desired. 

Arya took a long pull from her glass, something Daenerys could tell from the smell alone was not wine. “I was once that girl,” she said as she stared straight ahead, grey eyes unmoving. “Sleeping under the pier, hiding from the guards, eating out of the trash. Had the Faceless Men not agreed to continue my training I would likely still be her.” 

“It was very kind of you to help her that way,” Daenerys said truthfully. 

With a slight shrug that she almost didn’t notice Arya emptied the remainder of her glass in a single gulp. “Why have you come Daenerys?” 

Momentarily speechless Daenerys just stared into those familiar grey eyes, the same ones she saw alight with determination and humor each time Amara wrestled with Nymeria. “I wanted to apologize in person.”

“That’s not necessary. It was a long…”

Daenerys held up her hand. “Please, let me finish,” she pleaded. “My brother used to call it waking the dragon. He’d get so angry, at me, at the Usurpers who took the throne, at the Khal, at the Dothraki and their customs. He hated riding with them, but I loved it.” Now it was her turn to get a faraway look in her eyes. She was certain it was there even without the aid of a mirror. “He didn’t belong there, but for me, it was the first time I truly felt at home.” 

“I am sorry for your loss. I heard of your husband and your child. No one should have to suffer so much pain.” 

Daenerys smiled against the tears that threatened. “Thank you Arya,” she said reaching out and laying her hand over the killer’s. “Our son. The child I lost was a boy, ‘The Stallion Who Would Mount the World,’ the Dothraki called him. Drogo was so happy. Our marriage may not have start out with love but it grew over time. I truly did love him.” 

Across the table she could see she had Arya’s full attention. “My brother was an angry, bitter fool and I hate to say it but there are plenty of similarities between us. I try to control it, I try to reign it in, desperate to ensure I don’t become another mad Targaryen but the truth is I often fail.” She took a deep breath. “What happened at the keep when you came for Baxter, that was me losing control and lashing out. I thought you were going to take Amara from me, and I was hurt, so I sought to hurt you.” She shook her head as the first tear broke free and streaked down her cheek. “It was petty and cruel, and I regret it deeply.” 

She expected a harsh reprimand, but instead Arya turned her hand under Daenerys’s and laced their fingers together. She squeezed the Dragon tightly. “I would never take Amara from you Daenerys. I told you the night I left her with you that you were her mother now. That will never change.”

“I’m sorry Arya, you didn’t deserve those things I said. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, giving me more than I could ever repay you for. I regret what happened between us, that is why I left King’s Landing and Amara right after your sister’s visit, so I could come here and apologize.” 

“You saw Sansa?” Arya snapped, her voice carrying enough to turn several heads at nearby tables in their direction. 

“Your sister came South to meet with me and discuss trade between our kingdoms.” 

“Did you tell her about me, about Amara?” 

“Of course not,” she assured her. “I will keep my word. No one will ever learn the truth of Amara’s parentage from me.” 

“Thank you. If Sansa knew…” her words trailed off, as if she had no idea how to finish that statement. 

“Your sister speaks of you fondly.”

Arya scoffed. “I doubt that, your Grace.”

Hearing her title coming from Arya’s lips was undeniable proof that she was making progress. It thrilled her far more than it should have. With a light chuckle she squeezed Arya’s hand that she still held on the table. “Oh I assure you it’s the truth. She told me of how you learned the sword under the guise of dancing lessons, and how you used to chase stray cats across the whole of King’s Landing to impress your teacher.” 

Arya gifted her with a rare smile. “Is Sansa well?” Daenerys could hear the real concern in her voice and it reminded her just how deeply the woman cared, under her hard exterior. 

“She is. Her kingdom has peace and she seems happy. Amara took an immediate liking to her. She was in tears when your sister explained she intended to leave.” 

For a fraction of an instant there was another smile on her face, before it shifted into something angry, almost furious. “You shouldn’t have asked her to go back there. King’s Landing has nothing but horrible memories for her. She should never have to go back!” 

“I regretted inviting her the moment I realized how uncomfortable she was,” Daenerys confessed, “but the more time she spent with Amara, the more that seemed to change.” 

“Change how?”

“By the time she was ready to leave she was spending most of her time with her niece and recalling her times at the keep with her father and you, rather than what happened after.” 

The word ‘niece’ once again allowed Daenerys to peek through Arya’s façade to the truth underneath. She could see how much one single word affected the woman. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding sincere. “I didn’t mean to get so angry, I just worry about her. She’s been through so much already and with Robb, Jon and our parents all gone I worry there is no one left to protect her.”

“Have you ever thought of returning? To Westeros, to Winterfell and your family?”

“Everyday,” she answered quickly. The remainder of her reply came only after careful deliberation. “I can’t go back. It’s too late. The things I’ve done they hang over me like a cloud that never stops raining. It’s why I won’t return to Winterfell and Sansa, and why I left Amara with you.”

Daenerys felt this was an appropriate moment to push her agenda. “It doesn’t need to be an all or nothing pursuit.” The only acknowledgement that Arya heard her was a slight tilt of her head and a rise of her dark eyebrows. “You could visit your sister without returning to Winterfell permanently. I’m certain she would love that. Just as you could visit Amara in King’s Landing without revealing you’re her mother.” 

She looked down into her glass with its rapidly melting ice and then at the table, her eyes traced the grain of the wood while Daenerys watched. “It would put you all in danger if I returned. Perhaps I could go to Winterfell, but if I joined you in King’s Landing it wouldn’t take long for people to notice my connection to Amara.” 

Daenerys smiled fondly. “She does look more like you every day,” she promised. Still the Queen wasn’t ready to give up quite yet. “They say your order can change their faces, is that true?” 

Although she didn’t respond verbally the look of seriousness in her eyes as they stared straight into Daenerys’s made the answer perfectly clear. 

“Then you could wear another face. One people wouldn’t recognize. I wouldn’t even tell my advisors who you truly were, if you didn’t wish it.” Daenerys hadn’t planned what she intended to say, but this conversation had gone much further than she anticipated. She didn’t intend to share so many details of her past, or mention Sansa’s visit to the keep. Now she was bargaining for a way to lure a murderer into her home, to be near her daughter. 

“Does the Imp still serve?” Arya asked, picking up her glass and angling it to the side so she could see the melted ice cross over. 

“He does,” Daenerys said warily. “Would that be a problem?”

Arya set her glass down. “More for him than me I suspect. I did murder his father, brother and sister.” 

Fearing she was losing any ground she’d earned she was quick to restate her proposal. “He wouldn’t need to know it was you. As I said, you could wear another face and I would keep your identity a secret.” 

“Why would you do that for me?” 

“Amara and I talk about you almost every night. I tell her bedtime stories about dragons and wolves and the more I tell her, the more she wants to hear.” Daenerys took another opportunity to squeeze the hand Arya still hadn’t released. “She wants to meet the Wolf who sends her presents, the one who gave her to me. I tell her it was the greatest gift I ever received, and that is perhaps the truest thing I’ve ever said to anyone.” 

“It’s too dangerous,” she repeated, sounding defeated. “I wish it wasn’t, but it is and I won’t put her, or you at risk for my selfishness.” 

“Its not selfish,” Daenerys countered. “In fact it may be the most selfless of things. How else could you describe willingly accepting the pain of leaving her again, just to bring her temporary happiness?”

“Are you certain? You don’t need to do this Daenerys. I forgive you for what you said.”

Daenerys couldn’t believe her ears. She was forgiven? That was what she’d wanted most for a long time. “Thank you Arya but I didn’t come here only for your forgiveness. I came because I want you to be a part of Amara’s life again. I want her to be able to read your letters one day, to see all the gifts you’ve sent, to know one more person out there loves her as deeply as I do. I want her to know you, if only in some small way. You are a part of her, no matter where you go.”

“When?” Arya asked, taking back her hand and running it through her messy hair. 

Daenerys was delighted. “Whenever you want. I flew here on Drogon, you can join me in returning that way if you wish, or you can follow after.”

“You flew here on a dragon?” she verified in disbelief. 

Feeling brazen enough to jest, Daenerys grinned. “Of course, do you not travel that way?” 

“Only when my horse is too tired,” Arya bantered. 

“Have you ever seen a dragon, Arya?”

“From the ground as they fly overhead, but nothing more.” 

“Then how did you craft such a detailed gift for Amara,” Daenerys wondered. “Seeing that toy it’s as if you were looking at Drogon as you carved it.”

“The temple has an archive,” she explained. “Books from ages ago, I found one with a picture of a dragon and used that as a guide.” 

“You did well,” Daenerys praised. “Amara loves it, especially the baby in the egg, but I think the wolf is still her favorite.” She took pleasure from the flash of happiness that passed over Arya’s face. Just like all of her emotions it was gone almost before Daenerys could verify its existence, but she noted it anyway. “Would you like to meet Drogon?”

“Will he eat me alive?” Arya asked after a chuckle. 

“Only if I tell him too.” 

Her eyes flickered with excitement that was unmistakable. “Let’s go then.”

R-C

Arya thought she was prepared to see her first dragon up close. She didn’t fear death, so what harm could it cause, and still seeing the creature for the first time had her heart nearly freezing in her chest, while her skin prickled in warning. It was much bigger than anything she was expecting. 

To her amazement the tiny Dragon Queen walked straight up the massive beast and laid a gentle hand on his cheek, just under his eye. The dragon all but leaned into his mother’s touch, causing Daenerys to smile. “Drogon this is Arya. She’s Amara’s mother, so we need to take care not to burn her alive or eat her,” she teased. 

Unable to peel her eyes off the dragon she asked, “Can he understand you?” 

“Not as well as Nymeria,” Daenerys admitted. “Your wolf seems to understand exactly what is being said around her, I’ve never seen anything like it. Drogon can’t understand everything, but I do believe he understands some of what I say.” 

She thought of her former pet and smiled. It really did comfort her to know Nym was close to Amara and Daenerys, keeping them safe. “She can understand you,” Arya confessed. “It’s hard to explain and it doesn’t really matter, but Nymeria can understand what you’re saying. She will follow your orders and she would die to protect Amara.” 

Daenerys looked away from her first child and smiled warmly. “Just wait until you see them. Nymeria running through the keep, Amara chasing after her, growling like she too was a wild wolf.” Her smile only grew as she remembered. “Sansa says it reminds her of you.” 

Unsure of what to say she said nothing. Finally, Daenerys’s attention returned to the dragon before them. “Will you be joining me?” she asked as she whispered to the beast, only to have him lower his huge body for the small woman to mount. Arya was beyond impressed. 

“There are some things I must attend to at the temple,” she said cryptically. “I will visit as soon as I can. Please tell Amara hello for me, if you are willing.” 

“I will,” she said from the dragon’s back, “as soon as I see her.” 

Arya intended to hold her tongue and keep her question in, but it flooded out in a moment of unguarded curiosity. “May I ask a question your Grace?”

“Of course, anything.”

“What happened to your brother? Most say he is dead but I knew a Faceless Man who claimed he was offered a contract on your brother’s life.” 

“My brother was a coward. He hated my husband but feared him, so he waited until Drogo was asleep and then attacked him. It was the wounds my brother left him with that eventually led to his death.” 

She regretted bringing up the subject, but they were too deep into it to stop now. “Did you kill him?”

“He fled,” she admitted. “I have no idea where he is now, or if he has been killed in the years since. It’s a shame your friend didn’t take the job. I’d sleep better if I were certain he was dead. Maybe then the dreams would stop.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. “I shouldn’t have asked.” 

Daenerys’s smile didn’t reach her eyes and the killer noticed. “I said you could ask me anything and I meant it.” She reached down and stroked the dragon’s neck. “I should be returning to Amara, but I’ll see you soon I hope.”

“Be well Daenerys.”

“And you, Arya.”

She stood in awe as they took flight right in front of her. With a few flaps of his strong wings they were up amongst the clouds, nearing the moon in a way Arya didn’t think was possible. She stayed there and watched the sky for long after they were gone. So she’d be returning to Westeros to visit her daughter. That certainly wasn’t how she expected her evening to go.

R-C


	7. Chapter 7

Daenerys steered Drogon to the tallest point of the Red Keep and gripped his scales tightly as they landed. Before she’d even climbed down she could hear Amara’s sweet voice calling out to her. It was late, well past her bedtime but instead of dreaming quietly in her room Amara was cuddled against Missandei’s chest, wearing her nightclothes, holding out a hand in anticipation. 

Rushing to her daughter she opened her arms and waited for Missandei to pass her over. Once she had her, she cradled her daughter as tightly as she dared. It had only been days and she missed her more than she ever imagined possible. She couldn’t even begin to fathom how Arya could stand to be separated from the girl they both loved. 

“Thank you Missandei,” Daenerys whispered as she adjusted Amara in her arms. 

“Of course, your Grace.” 

Looking down at the girl’s big, sleepy eyes she smiled and kissed her forehead. “Mama missed you sweetheart. Were you a good girl for Aunt Missandei?”

She nodded against Daenerys’s breasts as the Queen carried her off the roof and back indoors. “What are you doing up so late? You should be in bed.”

“Its my fault, your Grace,” Missandei said as she fell in step behind the royalty. “The scouts sent word of Drogon’s return and I knew how much you would wish to see her immediately so I let her…”

“It’s fine Missandei,” Daenerys said with a tired smile. “You’re right. This was exactly what I needed.” 

“Did you find her?” she asked after Amara was safely in bed. She was already lost to a world of dreams, wearing a contented smile. 

“I did,” Daenerys admitted in a low whisper. She took one more look at her daughter and then slipped out into the hallway, knowing Missandei would follow her. “She’ll join us as soon as she’s able.” 

“She agreed to return?” the advisor asked in wonder. 

Tired as she was, Daenerys still had enough energy to tease her friend, if only barely. “You doubted me?”

“Of course not, your Grace,” Missandei countered with an exaggerated curtsey that accompanied the title. “I would never do such a thing. I just worried that Amara’s stubbornness might be a trait she gets from her mother. If it is, we should likely prepare for the trouble she’ll get into as she grows.” 

Daenerys laughed, leaning her head on the taller woman’s shoulder. It felt nice to laugh, to forget about the stresses and burdens of governing and simply enjoy a moment with her friend. “Arya isn’t the only stubborn one,” she said proudly. 

“Even more reason to be concerned. We’ll need to take precautions before she’s old enough to get into any real trouble.”

The two shared another quiet laugh before Jorah joined them. “What sort of precautions?”

“Nothing we need to worry about tonight,” Daenerys said as she met the knight’s eye, “thankfully.” 

Next to her Missandei chuckled before she covered her mouth with her hand. Daenerys looked over her shoulder and bit her lip to keep her expression flat. “How was Amara while I was gone?” 

“She missed you,” Jorah said, as though the words were waiting on the tip of his tongue. “Where did you go and why did you not tell anyone you were leaving? You’re a mother now…”

“I’m aware of that!” she responded with intensity. “I had something I needed to take care of. I knew it wouldn’t take long with Drogon’s help, so I didn’t want to wait. It needed to be done.” 

While it looked like Jorah had more to say Missandei beat him to it. “Amara was fine. I told her you were out checking on the sky with Drogon and that you’d return as soon as you could.” 

Daenerys knew exactly how grateful she should be for all Missandei did. She was a trusted advisor, a valued friend and one of the few people Daenerys knew she could rely on. If that weren’t enough she also had a bond with Amara that grew stronger everyday. The Dragon Queen silently prayed to all the Gods she knew that some of Missandei’s intelligence and bravery passed to Amara. 

“Thank you Missandei.” The women’s eyes met for an instant before they both smiled. “Go rest,” she instructed them. “Tomorrow will come early and I need at least a few hours of sleep.” 

“Goodnight your Grace,” Missandei said before she hurried off down the hall. 

“Are you alright?” Jorah asked when they were alone. 

“Of course. Why do you ask?” 

“You haven’t disappeared like that since before Amara was born. I thought you’d gotten that out of your system.” 

“As I said, there was something I needed to do.” 

Although she didn’t look she could feel his eyes on her as they moved side by side down the corridor. “Would you like a drink Khaleesi?”

“Another time,” she said as quickly as she could without being rude. “I’m exhausted. Goodnight,” she said as they came to a stop at her chamber doors. 

“Goodnight Daenerys.”

R-C

Just a few hours into the next day and Daenerys was ready to be anywhere but on the throne. The sun was shining, the sky was clear and she wished she could be out with Amara, but matters needed to be attended to. Preparations had to be made. 

“They’ll be arriving in the next few days,” Tyrion told her as she tried to pay attention. 

“And who is he exactly?” she wondered aloud. 

She pretended not to notice the way the Lannister rolled his eyes before he answered. “Lord James Kenning,” he reminded her. “His father was loyal to mine. According to reports he was hung, but his children live, all six of them. James is the eldest and the meanest of the lot.”

The topic of their fathers always brought tension, but it was made even worse by Daenerys’s connection to Arya. The Starks and Lannisters had spent nearly a decade killing one another and it left plenty of bad blood on both sides. Arya had lost most of her siblings and both her parents and Tyrion had lost a father, a brother and a sister to the so-called ‘Rabid Wolf.’ 

She chose her words with care as she thought back to what she could remember about that time. She was crossing the sea but received word by raven each time Arya took another castle or city, each time she ended another bloodline. Daenerys didn’t think anyone loyal to Tywin Lannister survived Arya’s anger, but apparently she was wrong. “Was he powerful?” 

Tyrion rolled his eyes for the second time in under a minute. “Only in his own mind. He controlled a small hold outside of Casterly Rock, called Kayce. He provided my father with a small garrison and some crops and in return he received Lannister support. He got the far better end of the arrangement I assure you.” 

“If he’s unimportant, why must I meet with him?” she challenged, her eyes shifting to the window so she could be reminded of what she’d rather be doing. 

“Because as insignificant as Lord Kenning was while my father was alive, things are different now.” She thought about inquiring for more details, but she didn’t have to, Tyrion wasn’t finished. “With Casterly Rock in rubble and my family gone, Kenning’s heir was presented with a chance to expand his power. By all accounts he has made the most of his opportunity.” 

“And that is why I need to meet with him.” 

“Exactly,” Tyrion confirmed. “It’s a shame too, I’d love to see him tossed from one of the keep’s largest windows, straight into a dragon’s waiting mouth.” 

“You don’t like him,” she said with a knowing smile. Tyrion was so good at hiding his emotions, at ‘playing the game,’ as he called it. It still surprised her when he was unguarded as he was now, making his true feelings obvious. 

“As you know my father was never kind to me. He hated me from the day of my birth until the day Amara’s mother took his head. If his final thoughts were of me, I have no doubt they weren’t pleasant.” 

“What does this have to do with Lord Kenning?” Daenerys questioned gently. 

He sighed deeply and reached for the glass of wine that had gone untouched up until that point. “For as long as I can remember Lord Kenning always wanted to get in my father’s good graces.” He paused and Daenerys could see he was thinking back to a time long before they met. “It wasn’t surprising, everyone wanted father’s approval but Lord Kenning sought to impress my him by ridiculing me, as my father often did. He inspired his children to do the same.”

Daenerys gasped. “How cruel.” His reply came in form of a loud gulp from his beverage. 

“It worked,” he said ruefully after a long stretch of silence. “I think the only reason my father kept him around was for the jokes. I can imagine it’ll be worse now that James is Lord of the House.”

Daenerys shook her head. “I have never laid eyes on him and already I hate this Lord Kenning.” 

With a shake of his head Daenerys watched him lift the wine to his lips again. 

R-C

Daenerys sat next to Missandei under an umbrella, snacking on some treats from the kitchen, while they watched Amara wrestle with Nymeria. The silver dress she wore, a gift from Sansa was stained with mud, grass and dirt but her mother didn’t have the heart to stop the girl’s fun. 

“How was it to see her again?” Missandei asked quietly. 

Since her return they hadn’t had many chances to speak privately. Missandei remained the only one who knew where Daenerys had gone and why. 

“I felt horrible,” Daenerys confessed. “I hurt her and I was wrong.” The hard expression she wore vanished as she recalled the moment Arya forgave her. “She says she’s forgiven me, but I don’t know how that’s possible after what I said.” 

A hand covered hers. “Your Grace I don’t believe this Arya is the type of woman who would say something she did not mean, do you?”

She hadn’t thought of it that way, but now that she was, it made her smile. “No I suppose you’re right.” 

“And she said she’d visit, yes?”

“Yes, she did,” she confirmed. “She is worried other people will recognize her and realize who she is to Amara, but I promised I’d keep her secret, so she will come.” 

The Queen knew Missandei’s happiness at this news was only because she knew how important it was to Daenerys and that only made it sweeter in the Targaryen’s eyes. 

An oddly powerful hand clutched at two of her fingers and pulled. Daenerys looked down, dropping a half-eaten cracker back onto the table. “Come mama,” Amara whined as she tugged, “play.” 

Squatting down Daenerys scooped up Amara in her arms and began tickling her furiously while the girl squirmed against her. When she felt Nymeria circling around her feet she knew her silk dress was soon going to be an in a state similar to Amara’s. This wouldn’t be fit for a queen at all, and still she couldn’t find it in her to care, even as she tumbled down to the grass for the first time. 

R-C

She was sitting atop the Iron Throne when Lord Kenning brought his people into the keep. In contrast to Sansa’s visit, Kenning had a contingent of a dozens soldiers, five advisors and twice as many servants. 

Skimming over the majority of the group, she focused on the Lord. James Kenning was a tall man who had a chin lined with a neatly trimmed beard. Otherwise his features seemed soft, a small upturned nose and a jaw that looked entirely breakable. He wore a bright orange shirt that matched his House’s banner and the plate of his troops shined when they moved. He took a knee in front of her. “Your Grace, thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I hope this is the beginning of a long and close relationship between your family and mine.” 

“Lord Kenning, please stand,” she said formally. Next to her Tyrion sat on one side, while Jorah occupied the other. In the rear of the room Missandei stood with an excited Amara, who was happily playing with her favorite wooden toys. 

When she took his hand, he kissed it, reminding of her of Vittorio in Braavos. Idly she wondered if he escaped before Arya’s deadline. “You’re even more beautiful than in the songs they sing to honor you.” 

She smiled falsely and pulled her hand back. “How very kind of you,” she replied. “Please allow me to introduce my daughter Amara, and my advisor Missandei.” With the former slave holding her hand they stepped forward, coming around the throne to stand next to Daenerys. She took Amara’s other hand. “Amara this is Lord Kenning from Kayce.”

The man spared the girl only a quick glance before his eyes returned to the mother. “I heard you had a child, congratulations. I have gifts.” Snapping his fingers Kenning called one of his servants forward who presented the wrapped parcels to his Lord. He handed them to Daenerys quickly, using it as an excuse to brush their fingers together. He barely acknowledged Amara’s existence and that infuriated every last one of her maternal instincts. 

Daenerys passed off the packages to Missandei. Turning her back rudely on her guest she bent down next to her daughter. “Why don’t you and Missandei go into the kitchen and see what the cook is making for dinner okay?” 

Always formal, especially in front of others Missandei spoke for the duo. “Of course your Grace.” 

Amara reached out for Daenerys’s hand. “Come mama,” she pleaded. 

More than anything she wanted to go, but she couldn’t and she knew it. “Not this time sweetie,” Daenerys whispered, “but I bet if you’re a good girl Aunt Missandei will help you get a treat before dinner.” 

Immediately cheered up by the idea Amara used her tiny body to try and force Missandei to move faster. Daenerys had to bite the interior of her cheek to remain silent, but around her, both Tyrion and several members of Lord Kenning’s court were amused. 

“Sorry about that, that was Amara,” she said proudly. 

“She doesn’t look like you,” he noticed. 

“Amara is definitely her father’s daughter,” she countered, voicing the lie they’d been trading for years. 

“Yes, I heard. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you.” Hoping to get things back on track the Queen held out her hands. “Lord Kenning, this Ser Jorah, my knight and of course you know Tyrion Lannister, my Hand.” 

Pale blue eyes scanned the room and lips curled into a grin as he turned his focus onto Tyrion. “Dwarf, its been a long time. Your father would be so proud, seeing you here, Hand to the Queen. I know he always wanted you to take a leadership role.” 

His words were hollow and Daenerys disliked him all the more for it. She and Tyrion shared a heavy look before the Lannister forced a smile. “Yes, hello, I remember you as well Lord Kenning. As for my father I highly doubt he’d be proud. He never was before and we had a good thing going, why change it now?” 

The harsh words had a smooth delivery that had Daenerys resisting the urge to smirk. In front of her, Lord Kenning blushed as he looked anywhere but the Queen. “Y…yes, well I know you and your father had problems… but…”

As his words trailed off Daenerys enjoyed his uneasiness more than she should have. It was obvious he didn’t expect Tyrion to be so hostile, and now he was struggling to recover so he could make a favorable first impression. Daenerys wondered if she should tell him how he’d already failed. 

“How are things in your lands James?” she asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from Tyrion. She waved a hand toward the exit and suddenly everyone began to move. 

When she took her first step down from the dais Kenning once again gripped her hand. “Things are well,” he told her. “The weather was good and we had a bountiful harvest. Plenty in the stores to sell or trade.” 

It took all her limited self control not to scoff. It was always the same. People came, they offered Amara pretty, expensive, meaningless gifts and then they tried to sway her. It never failed, by the end of the second day nearly every Lord who visited was regaling her with the wonders of his land, telling her of all the things she’d enjoy if only she’d visit. Then, somewhere amidst the conversation he’d subtly suggest they’d be stronger married. She was used to it, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Kenning was no different, unless his impatience counted as variety. He hadn’t even waited until he’d been shown his room and already it was beginning. 

“I’m pleased to hear that,” she exaggerated. “That will be good for your people and the whole of the Seven Kingdoms.” They walked in the quiet for a few moments until Daenerys spoke again. “I understand your lands have expanded over the past years. How are you enjoying the added responsibility?” 

He looked behind him to glare at the Lannister. “Yes, well after what happened someone needed to take charge.” 

“I agree,” Daenerys said quickly, hoping to cover the snickering she heard coming from her Hand. 

Kenning’s unforgiving expression made it clear she hadn’t succeeded. “Someone needed to take charge,” he repeated. “With no remaining Lannisters the land was ripe for chaos. If I hadn’t stepped in, there would be riots in the streets, your Grace.”

“Well, in that case, I’m glad you intervened,” she said as kindly as she could manage. “But you’re incorrect,” she told him stiffly, taking another look over her shoulder. “A Lannister remains, he just found a more suitable post than wasting away in the tatters of Casterly Rock.” 

It was obvious that her praise for Tyrion made Lord Kenning uncomfortable. Had he really expected her to join in on his ridicule of her friend? She watched as his features adjusted, each time revealing more truth. “O… of course,” he mumbled. “I only meant that without a fit Lannister as Lord…”

“I would have gladly named Tyrion as the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Warden of the West, but the truth is I needed him here.” She could see the moment Kenning understood what she was really saying. She was telling him as innocently as she could, that she would have given his lands to the Lannister dwarf he despised. 

Another rush of blood filled his cheeks and he stopped walking to face her directly. “My Queen, I hope this isn’t too forward but I hope to discuss the possibility that you and I may merge our houses and solidify our relations through…”

“Perhaps now is not the time for this discussion,” Tyrion said diplomatically. “You just arrived after all.” With a wave of his hand he called one of the servants over. “Will you please show Lord Kenning and his guests to their rooms?” 

If looks could kill Daenerys were certain she’d need a new Hand. “Don’t interrupt me dwarf,” he spat. “You may have these people fooled but I know better. I knew you when you were nothing more than an embarrassment to your father, a drunken whoremonger.” 

“Youthful indiscretions, one and all,” Tyrion said with a dark chuckle. 

Kenning acted as though Tyrion hadn’t spoken. “As I was saying your Grace…”

Eager to postpone the awkwardness for at least a few hours she reached up and set her hand on his shoulder, feeling the expensive fabric of his bright shirt. “Lord Kenning, you and I shall have plenty of time to speak about all the matters on your mind. For now, please follow Claudia and she’ll show you to your quarters. I hope you will join me for dinner shortly.” 

His disappointment was obvious even as he tried to hide it. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he assured her. 

When Tyrion began laughing behind her back Daenerys couldn’t hold her tongue and joined in. “Tyrion are you alright?” she asked with genuine concern. She hadn’t liked the way Kenning spoke to Tyrion, but she knew the small man could take care of himself.

“Alright? You defended me Daenerys. That was…” 

When he didn’t finish, she took a guess, filling in the space where he left off. “Unnecessary?”

His arm snaked around her waist, hugging her to him. “Actually I was going to say, ‘that was the most fun I’ve had all week.’” 

Despite his carefree laugh, Daenerys caught the extra second his eyes lingered on hers, and she could see the gratitude reflected there. “Come on,” she said pulling him along with her. “Let’s go find Missandei, I’m sure she’s in desperate need of a break.”

R-C

Nearly an hour into their dinner, Nymeria trotted into the Great Hall as though she wasn’t late and took up her spot in front of the Queen’s table, lying on her stomach and cleaning the dirt from her paws. Up until then the feast was as predictable as it was boring. Daenerys was anxious for it to end. She wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath and tell Amara a story, but instead she was stuck entertaining a fool. 

Almost as soon as Nymeria was settled Amara was slipping down from the high seat, stretching her legs until her toes touched the stone and then lowering herself slowly. “Ny,” she chattered happily. Daenerys’s hands hovered nearby in case she slipped, but the help wasn’t required. 

“What in the name of the Gods is that?” Kenning asked, setting down his fork. 

“Have you never seen a direwolf before Lord Kenning?”

Suddenly he looked at her as if she’d sprouted another eye. “A direwolf?” 

“Yes,” she answered calmly. “I understand they are common in the North.” 

He began eating again, speaking between bites. “I wouldn’t allow such a creature on my lands. If any wandered near Kayce I’d send my garrison to have them hunted, until none remained.” 

“That would be entirely unnecessary. Since she joined us Nymeria has been both loyal and obedient.” She looked over the table and watched for a few seconds as Amara scratched behind Nym’s ears. “Besides, Amara loves her deeply.” 

Daenerys could see the hints of blood around the wolf’s mouth. Although the staff set out food for her each night, Nymeria preferred to hunt her own meals, often disappearing while the humans ate or after Amara was sleeping soundly. 

“You allow your daughter to be near her?” he asked in disbelief. He followed Daenerys’s eyes and took note for the first time of the fact that Amara was playing with the animal in question. “Surely that is not safe.” 

“As I said, Nymeria is obedient.” With a shrill whistle, she called the beast and Nym’s head snapped up, her eyes seeking out and finding Daenerys in the crowd. Holding up one dainty finger she moved it about in a circle. The whole room watched as Nymeria immediately rolled onto her back, exposing her stomach. With a giggle, Amara was all too happy to scratch the wolf’s available belly. 

Amused by Kenning’s stunned look, she pressed further. “Nymeria speak!” she commanded in her native tongue. Even in a different language the response was immediate, a loud bark that echoed around them. 

Understanding what was happening, Amara took the opportunity to show off what she’d been practicing. “Ny,” she said as the wolf righted herself. “Paw!”

She held out her hand and waited. It didn’t take long for Nymeria’s large paw to settle on Amara’s palm, forcing it down with its weight. Around the hall the onlookers cheered and clapped and Amara lit up as though the sun were shining behind her face. Forgetting her food Daenerys abandoned her chair and hurried to her daughter. “You did it!” she praised loudly. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Well trained or not, I’d have her killed. If only for the principle.” 

Daenerys ignored him as completely as she could. She didn’t want Amara to hear anything about Nymeria being killed, so she called for Missandei. “Take Amara and Nymeria to her room and get her ready for bed, please.” 

“At once,” Missandei replied, understanding coloring her eyes. 

Sitting again in her chair Daenerys turned to her guest. “What principle would that be?” she asked abruptly. “Why would you want to kill such a beautiful animal?” 

He bowed his head slightly. “Forgive me your Grace, but you are not from Westeros. The direwolf is the sigil of the Starks. They were traitors to the throne and one of their offspring was responsible for destruction all across my lands.” 

Daenerys tensed as she pictured Arya. As she began her voice was powerful, but calm. “I’m aware of the Starks,” she reminded him coldly. Remaining in control while anger burned away under the surface was difficult. After her fingers curled into fists she hid them under the table, hoping the Lord didn’t see. Her own family had no shortage of sordid history with the Starks, but she didn’t hold a grudge. She was offended for Arya, for Sansa and for Amara. Their family didn’t deserve to be spoken about with such distaste. Even with none of them present, Daenerys felt obligated to defend them. “Sansa Stark rules the North for me in Winterfell.” 

Just had happened with Tyrion Kenning seemed shocked by her choice to speak up when he belittled their family name. “You’re braver than I,” Kenning insisted as he took a long drink. He either didn’t notice the tension in her shoulders and the edge to her voice, or he didn’t care. “I wouldn’t trust a Stark to clean my boots. Giving her lands, any lands, that’s a rebellion waiting to happen.” He chuckled at his humor and continued, “The Boltons were madmen and they still served the Realm better than Ned Stark ever could.” 

Daenerys was ready to snap when Tyrion’s hand touched hers under the table, pressing against her closed fingers until she opened them. Gently he smoothed out the wrinkled skin while they passed a serious look between them. With a slow, forced breath she tried to control her fury. 

Remaining oblivious to the Queen’s anger Kenning kept on. “I’ve put a bounty on the girl’s head. Offered a year’s wage to anyone who brings me the Rabid Wolf, more if she’s alive so I can kill her myself.” 

“Excuse me!” she shouted suddenly. Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. If she had, then this idiot placed a bounty on Arya’s head. Daenerys had to fix this, and quickly. Whether the assassin acknowledged it or not, she was Amara’s mother and Daenerys was not going to let harm come to her. “You did what?” 

Kenning was clearly moved by the outburst. His eyes darted wildly around the room, looking for someone, anyone to provide him with guidance. For her part Daenerys stared at him directly, rising out of her seat. “I… I put a bount… bounty on her head. She killed Tywin Lannister, Jamie Lannister and Cersei Lannister. She should hang.” 

“You’ll rescind that order at once,” Daenerys demanded. 

“Why would I ever do such a thing? Dwarf, tell her. Tell her what this bitch took from us.” 

“I hold no ill will toward any of the remaining Starks,” Tyrion said cautiously. 

At this news Kenning erupted. “How can you say that? She murdered your brother, your sister and your father. She killed my father and dozens of Kenning soldiers.” 

“Yes,” Tyrion agreed, “she killed them all. Just as my family murdered her parents and most of her siblings. There is enough pain and regret to go around and Arya Stark got more than her fair share.” 

Shaking his head, he clicked his tongue against his cheek in disgust. “A traitor to your own. Your father was right you could never amount to anything. Just because they’re all dead doesn’t make you a real Lord or a real Lannist…”

“Enough!” Daenerys roared. Nothing in the Great Hall moved as she stared at her prey with her blood boiling under pale skin. “Lord Kenning, I understand you’re upset but this is inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?”

“Regardless of your feelings, Tyrion Lannister is the Hand of the Queen, and I am the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, you will treat us both accordingly.”

Again Kenning seemed stunned by her defense of Tyrion. “Yes, your Grace.” 

“You will remove the bounty you placed on Arya Stark’s head and ensure everyone in your lands knows it is no longer valid. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” he mumbled. 

She replied with a stiff nod. “Very well. Enjoy the rest of your meal. I’m going to spend some time with Amara.” 

Daenerys was nearly at Amara’s bedroom when Tyrion’s smaller legs caught up with her. “Twice in one day,” he teased. “If you keep defending me I might start to believe you actually like me.” 

“Like might not be the word I’d choose.” 

“Careful, your Grace, people might get the wrong idea about us. What would they say, the Queen spending long nights in the Hand’s Tower? In the Hand’s bed?”

“I doubt there is any room left in your bed Tyrion,” she challenged with a smile she couldn’t contain. Few could make her laugh like the Lannister. 

“I could always make room for you Daenerys,” he promised, looking to her like the picture of innocence and sincerity. If she didn’t know him so well she might have believed. 

“How generous. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

As her hand turned the knob Tyrion’s hand landed on her bare arm. “One more thing Daenerys.”

She sighed and looked down at him. “Please Tyrion, whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.” 

His hand slid down toward hers and then back up to her elbow where he lifted it off. “I just wanted to say ‘thank you,’” he admitted. “Again.”

She looked at him closely, and gave him an indulgent smile. “You’re welcome Tyrion. Goodnight.” 

R-C

“We were interrupted last time I intended to discuss it, but I think now is a good time also,” Kenning said as they ate lunch together. 

Although she knew exactly what he meant, she acted as though she didn’t. “You have my attention, and there is no one to interrupt us now.” 

He smiled at this. “As long as the dwar…” With his lips turned down in a scowl he amended his statement. “As long as Tyrion doesn’t interfere we should be fine.” 

Slow seconds passed and Daenerys could tell he was waiting for her to say something but she outright refused. If he insisted on forcing the issue she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He’d have to work for it, even if her decision was already made. 

“I think I’ve done a good job reigning over my lands. I’ve dealt with the, how did you call it, the ‘added responsibility,’ and I’ve ensured we have both peace and prosperity.”

“You rule your lands well Lord Kenning,” she confirmed. “There is no dispute.”

“I understand you suffered a loss, more than one in fact, but you must look past that and see all that is possible. Were we to join our houses, we would be able to control as much of the world as we desired. With my army of well-trained soldiers combined with your savages and your eunuchs we could defeat anyone we wished. And that doesn’t even include mention of your dragons. I hear they are fearsome beasts.”

“The Dothraki are not savages,” she corrected, “and the Unsullied are some of the finest soldiers in the world.” He was just one more smug Lord complimenting his own gifts, while he told her how much she’d benefit from being wed to him. The thought alone turned her stomach. “How very kind of you to offer James,” she said naturally, hoping her familiarity would take some of the sting from what was coming next. 

“Also, it goes without saying that King’s Landing would want for nothing. Everything not needed by the smallfolk, I would have sent here, to us.” 

“As we discussed, I’m interested in purchasing the stores of extra food you grow but I’m afraid…”

His eyes widened as he sensed what was coming and attempted to be pre-emptive. “That is business,” he said taking her hand. “What I’m proposing now is personal, intimate.” 

Resisting the urge to pull her hand back she allowed him to hold it for another moment. “That is very kind James and I’m flattered, but the truth is I’m not really looking for marriage right now.” When her hand was hers again she slipped it into her lap, under the table and out of his reach. “Between Amara, and ruling the Kingdoms I have little time to consider romance.” 

“Perhaps you just need to look in the right place,” he offered. 

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “However despite the generosity of your offer, I don’t think now is the right time for me to be deciding such things.” 

Her mouth opened to politely refuse but her soft words were drowned out by a high shriek of laughter and then a lower, more rumbling version. Looking away from her suitor she saw Amara running in their direction, with Tyrion chasing after her. He was growling, with his hands up in mock anger. The scene made Daenerys smile. 

“Fucking dwarf,” Kenning hissed from his side of the table. “Always where he doesn’t belong.” 

Daenerys allowed the comment to pass, even after she’d been steadfast in her correction of him each time he called Tyrion, ‘a dwarf.’ 

Making her way to Daenerys Amara cried out in make-believe terror, reaching for the protective safety of her mother’s arms. Before they could meet Kenning reminded them of his presence. “W… what?” he stuttered. She heard a mumbled curse before he looked all around him. “Your slave, what is her name?” 

“I own no slaves,” she said without pretense, finding it too demanding to pretend any longer. 

“Fine, your servant then. Where is she?” 

“Do you mean Missandei?”

“If that’s her name. Call her over and have her take the girl,” he instructed. 

“And why would I do that?” 

“We were speaking,” he reminded her. 

“Yes, and we will continue to speak, but I will not dismiss my daughter. I haven’t seen her all morning.” 

Kenning was openly defiant, looking past the Queen to Tyrion. “Can you get her out of here so we can finish our conversation?” 

“Lord Kenning Amara is my daughter. She is welcome to go anywhere in this castle she wishes, including right here with you and I? Is that going to be a problem?” 

“Perhaps I could take Amara…”

She didn’t know what Tyrion was going to suggest but she was enraged on his behalf that he didn’t get to finish. “Stay out of this dwarf!” he complained, just seconds after asking the Lannister for aid. 

Taking notice of their conversation Missandei and Grey Worm approached from nearby. Daenerys was privately glad she’d sent Jorah on an errand. If he heard Kenning speaking to her so crudely he’d likely want blood. Daenerys could relate, she thirsted for it too. 

She had tolerated enough. Rising from her chair she glared down at her guest, until he stood and towered over her again. “I asked you to treat Tyrion with respect.” 

“You need to learn how things are done here,” he told her bluntly. “This is Westeros, not some flea bitten, squalid hole across the sea.” With a long finger pointing to Tyrion he continued, “I can call him any name you wish, but he’ll still be a dwarf.” His finger moved on to a Dothraki standing on guard. “He’ll still be a savage and she’ll still be a slave!” He finished by pointing into Missandei’s face. “Why should it matter what I call them?” 

Furious didn’t begin to describe her feelings. “It matters because they are my friends and they live here. This is their home and they deserve courtesy.” His expression was one that looked amused somehow, and it fed her rage. “If that isn’t a good enough reason, do it because I’m your Queen.” 

At the mention of her title, he reacted, remembering who he was speaking to. “I…”

“You should actually be thanking Tyrion,” she explained. “My dragons could raze your world in a single afternoon. The only reason I haven’t is because Tyrion urged me to allow you to rule the Westerlands. You owe him more than you realize, even if he is a dwarf.” 

She expected remorse or at least embarrassment and she saw both of those things, but only briefly. Before long his frustration covered everything else and Daenerys knew he wasn’t done fighting quite yet. “Be careful, your Grace,” he mocked. “This isn’t Essos and you aren’t riding around on a horse. You can’t bully and giggle your way through, you aren’t dealing with savages and slaves anymore. This is Westeros and things are different here.” 

“Of course they are.” 

“Here threats have consequences,” he informed her. “You’re so vulnerable Daenerys, no husband, a weak daughter.” Kenning looked at Amara directly and smiled as he reached out to stroke her hair. She backed away from his hand instinctively and Daenerys felt relief. “I came here to help you, but you refuse to listen. You need to learn how to make friends. Otherwise no one will be around to help when something tragic happens.” As he finished his threat his eyes once again landed on Amara. 

“Careful!” Grey Worm growled from where he stood. 

Daenerys held up her hand to quiet him. “Thank you Lord Kenning,” she said sarcastically. “I’ll take your opinions under advisement. It’s getting late,” she said without breaking eye contact, “you and your men should get back on the road. It’s a long ride to Kayce.” 

“Fine, we’ll go, but you need to remember where you are…” 

“And you need to remember who you’re speaking to,” she shouted back. “I am Daenerys Targaryen, I am a Khaleesi and the Queen of the whole Seven Kingdoms, including your lands. I’m also the Mother of Dragons. If you ever again come into my home and disrespect those I care about, you will spend the remainder of your life in the castle’s dungeon. If you ever suggest you might harm my daughter, I’ll have you fed to the dragons and I promise you, you will die in both Fire and Blood.”

R-C

The small council met as soon as Grey Worm returned from escorting Lord Kenning and his troops past the gate. Jorah had seen them being led away and was pacing about the room, eager for details. 

“So what happened exactly?” 

Tyrion barked out a laugh. “Oh nothing unexpected. Daenerys just had to turn down yet another marriage proposal.” 

She envied Tyrion his ability to see the humor in any situation. She tried to follow his lead. Recalling their conversation from several nights earlier Daenerys met the Lannister’s eye and winked. “How could I possibly agree to a marriage when my heart belongs to another?”

She thought her tone alone would be enough to make it clear they were only bantering but while Missandei, Grey Worm and even Tyrion chuckled or outright laughed Ser Jorah began coughing on air as though his last lungful had bones in it. 

Now Tyrion winked at Daenerys before he guided them back on course. “Lord Kenning did not take the rejection well and was foolish enough to speak about Amara. To be honest, I was impressed everyone survived.” 

“You pardoned him?” Jorah asked, coming to stand behind her chair. “Why would you show mercy to someone who threatened your child? If ever there was a valid cause, that is it.” 

“I’ve pardoned no one and Lord Kenning will surely pay for his crimes but today is not the time. Ignorant as he was, he was right one thing, an entire region functions smoothly because of him. Removing him now would only complicate things.”

“So what are you going to do?” Missandei asked for the table. 

“Grey Worm, you and Missandei are hereby reassigned to watch over Amara. Anytime she is not with me, I want you both there.” After receiving confirming nods from the soldier and the translator she moved on. “Also I want to double the number of guards watching her, at all times.” 

“What about me?” Jorah asked her. 

“You’ll be with me,” Daenerys answered, causing the older man to smile in agreement. 

R-C

She stood over the bed just as she’d done during her last visit. This time she wasn’t wearing stolen armor, only a threadbare cloak that was full of hidden pockets stuffed with the tools of her trade. She snuck into the keep wearing a man’s face. She moved quickly, like she was taught. ‘Act as if you belong and few will question you.’ It was a valuable lesson, one she put into practice countless times. 

Looking down at Amara she pressed into her scar to return her face to its natural state. Alone, in the darkness, with the girl asleep she was comfortable being Arya Stark for a moment. She’d thought the Northern girl was locked away in the deepest part of herself, but since Amara was born she spent more and more time thinking about her previous life. 

With a gentle thumb she stroked Amara’s cheek, touching the soft hair, combing it out with her fingers gently. Setting a single, feather light kiss on her daughter’s forehead she smiled as Amara cuddled into her blankets. “Sweet dreams Little Wolf.” 

She intended to wear the man’s face and seek out Daenerys, but before she could the door opened behind her. In the time it took her to turn, Arya heard Daenerys call for the guards. In a flurry of movement, the room was filled by armed men, each one eager to end her life. She raised her hands above her head slowly, even as her mind calculated the best tactics and strategies for escape and combat. She knew from her previous visit that the window had a slight ledge. She could make use of that if need be. 

“Stay calm, it’s just me Daenerys.”

“Arya,” she whispered in the dark. Amara chose that moment to remind them she was listening. Her scared cry filled up the empty space and chilled her mothers to the core. 

R-C

Once she identified herself, Daenerys dismissed the troops. Not sure of what to do Arya followed after them, crossing the hall and standing against the wall with her arms folded over her chest. The guards stared but she acted as though they didn’t exist.

With nothing else to do she replayed her entry into the keep, mentally tracing each step in turn. As she did, it occurred to her just how many guards she passed. None stopped her, most didn’t even see her, but she saw them, each and every one. Was something wrong? Why else would Amara have guards posted outside her door? Wasn’t the castle safe anymore? 

When Daenerys joined her she was lost to her worried thoughts. “I’m sorry about that, it took longer than I hoped for her to settle again.” 

Shaking her head sharply to clear her mind she pinned the Queen in a serious stare. “Is she alright?” 

“She’s fine, I just startled her when I yelled. She’s fine now, it’s already forgotten.” 

Taking Daenerys’s hand, Arya pulled her away from the Unsullied and into an alcove that was hidden by a thick shadow. “Why so many guards? Is something the matter?”

Her instincts told her there was a problem and the only reason she survived this long was because she learned to listen to those messages. 

“It’s nothing,” she said in an attempt to placate the killer.

“What happened Daenerys?”

“A lord came and offered me his hand in marriage,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “He didn’t take it well when I refused.”

She couldn’t believe this. Was this Lord a danger? If so she knew exactly how to remedy that. “And you believe he’ll harm Amara?” 

“He said some things as he left,” she explained. “I’m sure it’s nothing but I wanted a few more guards close by, just to be safe.”

“What kind of things did he say?”

Her voice was little more than a whisper between them. “He made some threats.” 

With familiar hate surging through her body Arya had to resist the urge to draw a weapon. Her craving for blood was one she’d spent years struggling to control, to resist but tonight she saw nothing wrong with letting the beast off the leash. 

“Who is he, this lord?”

Daenerys looked as though she didn’t intend to answer and then thought better of it. “His name is James Kenning. He controls the lands around the ruins of Casterly Rock.”

Squinting her eyes, she thought back years. So much of that time in her life had blurred together, one day of blood and rage after another, but with a little effort she remembered Kayce. “I spared most of them.” 

“He was loyal to the Lannisters,” Daenerys reminded her. “His father was Lord before him. He was killed when you rode South.” 

“I remember,” she assured as her mind conjured up horrible ways to maim and kill this James. The more graphic her fantasies the more she yearned to be outside the castle, hunting her prey. “He had a relatively unimportant hold compared to Tywin. He had only a limited garrison and a single farm, so I killed the troops, hung the Lord and let the rest live.” 

“You showed mercy?” 

“I doubt he’d call it that,” she added confidently. The two women looked into each other’s eyes and time stood still. “Go get some sleep, Daenerys, it’s late.”

“Where are you going?”

“There’s something I need to do,” she announced. “I’ll be back soon.” 

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Wow this chapter ended up a lot longer than I originally intended. I hope no one fell asleep while they were reading. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is following along and commenting on this story, I appreciate the feedback. I hope you all enjoy where this is going. 
> 
> Until Next Time,
> 
> Russell Craig.


	8. Chapter 8

Anger warmed her Northern blood as she urged the stallion forward. She’d borrowed the fastest horse from the King’s Landing stables but he still wasn’t moving quick enough. 

As she travelled her thoughts were of this Lord James Kenning. He’d been stupid enough to challenge Daenerys and threaten Amara. For that he would have to pay a price, a high price. Years ago she allowed him to live, thinking he was too insignificant to pose a danger. Perhaps the Kindly Man was right and mercy was only for mothers, their children and the ignorant. 

Deep inside her, the various parts of herself battled for control. Arya Stark, the girl she used to be, the one who believed in justice and the glory of the Realm just as her father taught her, that girl desired peace. If Daenerys wanted Kenning dead, she thought, he’d already be dead. 

On the other side of the same coin, No One demanded blood. She believed there was only one way to solve such a problem and that was to make an example of this Kenning. There were so few things she could do for Amara, but she could do this. She could ensure none dared threaten or harm her again. 

After arriving in the West she stayed silent and just off the road, waiting. It took nearly a day, but finally a patrol of three passed by. Dismounted from her horse she approached them feigning an injury. “He…help please,” she muttered. 

The part of her that was Arya Stark flinched when the young soldier approached, but before she could alter the plan No One stuffed her back into her cage. “What happened?”

“Bandits and rapers,” she answered, hunching over to hide her scarred face. 

“Come now,” he said, putting a hand on her arm. “We’ll take you to Kayce, our Lord will help.”

From up the sleeve of her cloak a small, curved dagger appeared, landing in her hand with practiced precision. Since the troops wore plate armor she went for his throat. Gripping his hair, she forced him down, while her dagger pumped in and out of his neck three times in succession. 

He gurgled and reached for a weapon but she knew it was too late. After so many years, she could sense death in the air, and smell it when she was close enough. 

The remaining two guards were stunned, frozen in place by the sudden aggression. The killer took advantage of that and lunged for the second man. He was shorter and older than the dead boy. He managed to draw his blade, but what he should have been doing was fleeing, because in that moment, when he was busy pulling his sword free from its scabbard, No One was slamming her bloody dagger through his eye. 

Sensing someone behind her she kicked the body over and left the dagger sticking out from his head. Her sword was strapped to her back, under her cloak so she dodged one strike and then the next, just to put distance between them. The captain of the group was the oldest, with light hair that was beginning to shift to grey. Like the others he wore armor, and his rank was stamped into the breastplate. When he was about four feet away, weapon ready, she drew her sword. “Who are you?” he quizzed. “Why are you doing this?” 

“I have business with your Lord,” she told him. “He shouldn’t have insulted the Dragon Queen.”

For a few seconds it looked as if the captain was debating his options. With a deadly smile curling her lips she wondered if he realized just how few he truly had. “Let me go,” he pleaded. “You’ve made your point. I’ll tell Lord Kenning what happened here. You don’t need to do this. Please, I have a family…”

“So do I, which is why this needs to happen.” 

As their swords clashed for the first time, she could see the man had training and talent, but his age would be his downfall. She suspected it had been years since he drew his blade in anger and she knew as well as anyone just how those skills could dull if not practiced regularly.

He was quick for an old man, quicker than she expected. Each time she thought she had won, his sword blocked hers. Growing frustrated she swung and left herself open to a strike. The sharp pain of a gash burned down her left side. Another scar for her collection. Pushing past the pain she swung at his legs, forcing him to jump out of the way. Tripping on one of his dead, the captain stumbled and that was all she needed. A knee to the groin had him fighting to regain his balance and his breath and she danced around him, coming to a stop behind his back, with her steel against the tanned skin of his neck. 

“W…wait!” he shouted. “Please, I’ll tell Lord Kenning whatever you want. We are close, he’ll believe me. I’ll deliver your message, just tell me what it is.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, “you will deliver my message.” 

The man thought he’d been granted a reprieve but she didn’t allow him to bask in that falsehood for too long. Without another word she slid her sword’s edge from left to right. Looking over his shoulder she watched as blood ran down the front of his armor. His attempts to scream failed and he struggled in an effort to separate from her. 

She waited until he was dead and then she put away her sword. One by one she dragged the bodies away from the road and into the trees. Kneeling in the dirt next to the dead captain she whispered her prayer to the Many Faced God before she reached out and stole his face. The burn of her scar as his features replaced hers, only reminded her of the pain in her side. The wound wasn’t deep but it would aid the story she intended to tell. Knowing time was of the essence she stripped off her clothes and hid her weapons in a hallowed out log. 

Wearing the captain’s armor and his face, she limped into Kayce, exaggerating her injuries. “Captain,” one of the guards on the battlement yelled. “What happened? Where are Rodrick and Davis?”

“Dead,” she answered. “I almost was too. The Rabid Wolf roams nearby, she attacked us.”

“You must tell the Lord at once!”

“I will,” she vowed, continuing on. Under the captain’s skin the killer grinned in anticipation. She wanted death and she’d have it. 

R-C

“So she said no?” a tall, thin woman asked from her seat to the man’s left. 

“She’s a stupid bitch,” he countered. “She doesn’t understand how things are done here. She’s surrounded with savages and eunuchs from across the sea, but this is Westeros. Sooner or later she’ll come to understand that.” 

She stood near the door and listened, waiting to be acknowledged. It didn’t take long for her to pick out who was the Lord and she could only assume the woman he was speaking with was his sister, the resemblance was too obvious to ignore. 

“She’s the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” the woman announced. “If she were to agree to marry you, we’d be able to seize control.” 

The older man snapped. “You don’t think I know that?! That’s why I went there, but she’s even more stubborn than the letters suggested.”

When he looked away from his sister Lord Kenning was surprised to find her there. “Captain is there a problem?” 

Stepping forward she kept a hand against her wound. “Yes m’lord. Davis and Rodrick are dead, killed on patrol and I barely escaped.” 

Without the least bit of concern for her injury he marched forward and grabbed her by the front of her blood stained armor. “Who did this? Was it one of the other houses?”

Infusing as much fear into her voice as she could, she answered him. “I…it was, the Rabid Wolf, m’lord. She approached from behind and attacked when we were on our way back.” 

“The Stark?” After she offered a grim nod, he surprised her by smiling. “I knew it! I knew she was close. She hated the Lannisters too much to leave. She likely wants to stay close to Casterly Rock and be reminded of her victory.” 

She couldn’t believe how ridiculous an idea that was. She hadn’t been back to Casterly Rock since the day she reduced it to little bits of broken stone, but instead of correcting him she kept her feelings hidden. “What will you have me do my Lord?” 

He thought for a moment before responding. “I don’t care what the Dragon Queen wants. Double the bounty on the Stark girl and ensure no patrol leaves the gates without at least ten heavily armed men.” 

Again she nodded, just another captain agreeing with his Lord’s foolish plan. Still, one thing stuck in her mind. “The Dragon Queen wants the Wolf alive?” she clarified. 

He scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck what she wants,” he admitted. “She wanted me to remove the bounty and I was willing, but that was before the bitch threatened to take my land. As far as I’m concerned Arya Stark is a traitor and a murderer and when I find her, I’ll hang her as she did my father and send her head back to the Targaryen girl.”

As his words registered her intentions changed. She’d wanted to kill Kenning and the whole of his family to avenge the insult to Daenerys and Amara, and to dissuade others from trying something similar, but now hearing that Daenerys had sought to save her life, that changed things. She didn’t need the Queen’s protection, but the fact that it was offered regardless meant plenty. She thought back to Braavos and her fight outside the tavern. Daenerys had wanted to spare the drunk’s life, to avoid violence. She pictured her Queen now and could easily imagine the disappointed look on her beautiful face if and when she told him Kenning and his siblings were dead. Strangely she knew any other person’s disapproval wouldn’t have meant as much to her as Daenerys’s did. 

A new plan took root in her thoughts and she knew what she had to do. “M’lord, I think I should call all the troops together, to brief them on this Stark. They need to be prepared.”

“You should also see the Maester for your wounds,” Kenning’s sister said from her seat. 

She smiled politely at the young woman. “Thank you, m’lady I will.” 

Nobody moved, until James Kenning issued his decree. “Alright captain, you can have your meeting. Call all the troops together, and increase your efforts to find new ones. I don’t want to hire sell swords if I can help it, but we may need to.” After a moment he stepped back and turned to his sister. “Claudia, send the raven.” 

“Anything else m’lord?”

“Yes, close the gates. No one leaves Kayce except patrolling soldiers until Arya Stark is found and captured.”

“It will be done,” she promised. 

R-C

Near the gate she ordered some of the soldiers to spread the word. There would be a meeting in a few hours and every one of Kayce’s soldiers was expected to be in attendance. Although she had much to do, she took Lady Kenning’s advice and went to the Maester. After a stiff drink she showed the man her wound and allowed him to sew it closed. 

Word had already begun to spread through Kayce that the Rabid Wolf was nearby and hunting. The Maester spoke of it, addressing the killer unknowingly. “I was here the night she came. She murdered the garrison and then hung the Lord while his children watched.” 

“She’s an animal,” the captain commented. 

“The Gods will punish her for her sins,” he said without looking up from the stitches. 

“Yes, I suppose they will, someday.” 

R-C

After hiding her armor, she pulled back on her cloak. While the army prepared for the captain’s briefing Arya Stark wore her own face and passed through the market. She bought some lumber, a hammer and nails before she moved on. 

On her way to the barracks voices caught her attention. “Serves him right,” a man with a heavy accent was saying. “He likely tried to bully the Queen, like he bullies everyone else and now he’s paying for it. Dragons will burn us all alive!” 

She didn’t know who was speaking, but she wanted to. Following the sound, she came upon a group of seven homeless men and four women. They were filthy, in tattered rags, and only one wore shoes. They sat around a small fire, passing a bottle in one direction and scraps of food in the other. 

They didn’t notice or acknowledge her presence until she removed a coin purse from her belt and threw it down next to the fire. “I’d like to hire you all for a job.” 

R-C

Back in the captain’s armor and face she entered the barracks. She ignored all questions about what happened on patrol and waited until everyone was present. 

“Is everyone here?” she asked the man closest to her. 

“Everyone not stationed on the walls captain.”

“The gates and closed and the city is safe. Go get them all. Everyone needs to hear this.” 

Two of the soldiers near the rear of the cramped room went out the door and raced off to obey her commands. She waited until they were all inside and then she started her speech. “Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” she promised. “I know you’re all eager to line the walls with your bows but you need to understand what is coming.”

Mentally she counted to one hundred and then two. She kept speaking, but her focus was split. “Today while Rodrick, Davis and I were on patrol we were attacked by the Rabid Wolf, Arya Stark.”

A murmur went through the crowd. “It’s true then? It was really her?” a voice from the center of the room called out. 

“I don’t believe it,” another said. 

“Believe it. Arya Stark lives and she is close. Now Lord Kenning wants patrols to search for her, but he insists no groups of fewer than ten leave the gates. Likewise, the smallfolk will be required to remain inside the walls, where it is safe. For those of you seeking glory or coin, the bounty on her head has been doubled.” 

Just seconds after her count had reached five hundred a knock at the door came right on time. One of the soldiers nearest the door opened it and found one of the homeless women waiting there. She was wearing new clothes, shoes and had cleaned her skin. She looked so different the assassin in the captain’s face almost didn’t recognize her. “A message from Lord Kenning, for the captain,” she said, repeating the line Arya had taught her. 

Another rush of whispers passed through the group as she marched straight across the room. “Everyone remain here. We are not finished!” 

Outside she thanked the woman, who gave her a large smile. The other homeless were waiting and Arya nodded at them. “Do it.”

It took less than a minute for the men to bar the door and use the nails and hammer to lock it in place. When it was finished the only exit was blocked by three pieces of thick, hardwood going in each direction. Once it was done Arya lit a torch from a nearby brazier and quickly climbed onto the barrack’s roof. 

The first screams of fire came only a moment after she was back on the ground. The cries should have bothered her but they didn’t. These men were soldiers, Kayce soldiers, men who would have been sent to harm Amara if Lord Kenning commanded it. Now, he didn’t have an army. Now, he’d struggle to defend his lands from random bandits. Now he couldn’t hope to raise arms against Daenerys. 

While the men in the barracks burned, and the homeless went to waste their newfound wealth she returned to the keep where Lord James Kenning was. She wore the captain’s face until she was inside and then returned to her own, removing his bloody armor. The only part of him she kept was his sword, having left hers behind in the forest. 

She found Kenning in his bedchambers, changing his clothes. She burst in and tackled him, flattening him under her body while the sword pressed into his heart. “What … what is this?” he demanded to know. “Who in Seven Hells are you?”

She smirked grimly. “I believe you call me the Rabid Wolf?”

“Stark?” he gasped. “Impossible!”

“Very possible.”

“Guards!” he screamed. 

She didn’t stop him although she could have. Instead she waited until he was finished and drove her elbow into his throat causing him to gag and choke. “Your guards can’t help you, they’re dead!”

“Impossible,” he repeated, but this time she could see he wasn’t quite as certain. 

“I spared you once,” she reminded him, “and then I find out you’ve placed a bounty on my head. That’s not very polite m’lord.” 

“You’re a murderer!” he shouted defiantly. 

This time her elbow struck him under his right eye. “Yes, I am. I murdered the entirety of your army tonight and if you make me come back here I swear to the Many Faced God I will kill your whole family while you watch.”

“You can’t threaten me I’m Warden of the West.”

“A very nice title,” she said sarcastically, “but without an army will you really be able to hold your lands? Bandits, thieves, other nobles, everyone will be trying to get their piece of you. You’ll be just like a cheap whore.” 

“I’ll remove the bounty, just don’t kill me,” he said as he broke, tears streaking down his face, while she smelled the unmistakable scent of piss. 

“Leave it,” she replied. “It doesn’t matter. Any man, woman or child who tries to claim it will die painfully, so let it stand.”

After another call for guards that would never come, and a punch to give him a set of matching black eyes Arya stood. Positioned over him with a boot on his chest to keep him down she made her final point clear. “You can remain Warden to the West, I don’t give a fuck, but you’re going to stay here and behave yourself. If you go running to King’s Landing to beg for aid, you will return to find your family and your people dead. If you hire a fleet of sell swords to mount an attack, I will slaughter them as I did the Lannisters and then move on to you. You’re Warden of the West, so stay in the Westerlands where you fucking belong.”

She wanted to punish him for threatening Amara but she was afraid mentioning it would only draw more attention to the Targaryens. The bounty gave her an excuse to destroy him, without bringing Daenerys into it. Still she was confident her message had been heard. 

Removing her foot, she took several steps back. From the bed she picked up the shirt James intended to change into. After admiring it briefly she dropped it onto her beaten opponent. “You really should wear something warmer,” she told him as she retreated to the door. “Winter is Coming after all.”

R-C

While she was in the stables, returning the stallion to its home she heard a voice. “Do I require a new Warden in the West?”

She turned to see Daenerys standing there with her arms crossed. Behind her was a servant with dark skin and hair that fell in curls. “Kenning lives but I suspect he’ll find it hard to attack you without an army.”

“What happened to his army?”

Pivoting back to the horse she petted the creature before she fed him from a nearby basket. “There was a tragic fire in Kayce, your Grace,” she said without feeling. “It happened during a military briefing, the whole of the troops were inside.” 

“And Lord Kenning?” she inquired. 

She moved to face the Queen again. “He is sufficiently terrified for the time being. He believes my rage stems from the bounty he placed on my head.” She offered Daenerys a slight smile. “Thank you for insisting it be removed.”

Daenerys’s smile lit up her entire face, so unlike her own. “I wasn’t going to let that pig threaten you.” 

“Very kind, your Grace, but ultimately unnecessary. Bounties exist on my head across Westeros and beyond. Kenning is not the first nor will he be the last.” 

“Come,” Daenerys said holding out her hand in invitation. “Amara is eager to see you.” After a moment she looked over her shoulder to the servant. “Missandei do you know where Amara is right now?”

“She is with Grey Worm and Ser Jorah your Grace,” the woman answered. 

“Very good. Come Arya. You must be eager to see her.”

In truth she was very eager, most of her recent interactions with the girl she birthed occurred when she was asleep. She wanted to see those eyes that matched her own, wanted to see how she’d grown and learn her personality but how could she? She’d just killed dozens of men and regardless of her reasons she wasn’t sure she should be close to the daughter she loved. “I can’t Daenerys,” she confessed in a whisper. “I can’t.”

Daenerys’s violet eyes locked on hers and she spoke to address her servant without eye contact. “Missandei why don’t you go and check on the boys. I’m sure Amara is wearing them out.” 

She went without comment leaving Daenerys and Arya together in the stables alone. “Arya,” she began closing the space between them, “what’s wrong?”

“I can’t see her,” she said, her voice sounding fragile, “not like this.” She looked down at her hands and fully expected to see them stained crimson. No matter how hard she scrubbed they were never truly clean, and they never would be. 

The heat of Dragon’s blood burned her as Daenerys took her hand. “Amara loves you and she wishes to see you. She’s been waiting impatiently since I told her you planned to visit.” Daenerys smiled and weaved their fingers together. “I haven’t seen her this excited since Sansa left for Winterfell.” 

“I killed them Daenerys. How can I possibly go and hold Amara now?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter!” she shouted, losing control of her emotions. “It matters. I left her with you so she wouldn’t be around me, so she wouldn’t see what I am.”

“You’re her mother,” Daenerys replied, her voice low to ensure their conversation remained private. “You’re her mother and you love her and those are the only two things Amara cares about. She doesn’t care about your choices, or your faults, or your mistakes, all that matters is that you love her.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Just meet her,” Daenerys suggested. “You can wear another face if you want, or your own. I’ll clear the room, so it’s just you and her. Spend some time with her, talk to her and then if you want to go, I won’t stop you. You have my word.” 

She knew she was being manipulated but it was for a good cause, right? She wanted to see Amara, so she relented to the Queen’s wishes. “Very well then. Lead the way.” 

R-C

Daenerys left Arya in the hall and entered the room where Amara was playing. Missandei was on her knees, holding the wooden dragon toy high in the air while Amara dragged the wolf along the stones, growling each time Missandei brought the dragon swooping down. Jorah and Grey Worm both watched, although Jorah’s eyes shifted to Daenerys and stayed there as soon as he noticed her presence. 

“Why don’t you all take a break?” 

“Khaleesi?” 

“Everything is fine, I’d just like to spend some time with Amara.” 

Knowing the real reason for her request Missandei smiled to her friend and handed over the dragon figure. Then she pulled Grey Worm through the open door, whispering to him as they went. Jorah stood from his chair and approached. “What is going on?” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” she lied. 

“First you insist Missandei and Grey Worm stay with Amara while I protect you, and then you suddenly decide to change things today. You took Missandei with you and left me here guarding Amara.” 

“Do you have a problem protecting my daughter Ser?” she said, testing him with her tone. 

“Of course not. I love her, but we need to keep you safe as well and Missandei can’t protect you.”

“I think you underestimate Missandei’s abilities,” Daenerys said with a smile. “We are safe here. I just wanted some time with Amara.” When she thought he might return to his spot against the wall she added, “Alone.”

He looked confused and she could understand why, but she didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with it right now. She had plans and she secretly feared Arya would vanish in the time it took her to clear the room. 

Within a minute of Jorah’s departure there was a knock on the closed door. Daenerys left Amara playing and went to open it. Although she expected Arya, she didn’t expect the Northern woman to be wearing her own face. She thought she’d make use of Daenerys’s offer to keep her identity secret. Surprised as she was, it pleased her to have been wrong.

Once she was inside Daenerys closed the door and locked it, just to be safe. “Are you certain Daenerys?” she asked, sounding almost nervous. “I can go?”

Rather than reply Daenerys squatted down next to her daughter. “Amara, come here, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” 

Holding her mother’s hand, and the wolf toy she adored Amara walked up to the terrified assassin. “Hi.”

That simple greeting was enough to shatter Arya’s defenses. With unshed tears shining in her eyes she fell to her knees in front of the girl. “Hi Amara, my name is Arya.” 

Daenerys pushed her fingers through her daughter’s long dark hair. “Amara, Arya is the Wolf who brought you to live with me. “ 

It didn’t escape her notice that Arya tensed at the mention of their shared history. The Stark was glancing over her shoulder at the unrepentant Targaryen when Amara threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Wolf!” she cried. 

In a flash, Arya seemed to forget she existed, focusing completely on Amara. She hugged her back and pressed her lips into the top of her head. When the embrace was over Amara leaned back and held out the toy to show it off. “Wolf,” she said again. 

Daenerys couldn’t control the smile that covered her face as she watched. It really was sweet to see the assassin so vulnerable. The love she felt in the room gave her confidence that she’d done the right thing by inviting Arya to visit, even if she had to chase her to Braavos to do it. 

Amara handed over the wolf to her new friend and Arya took it. Daenerys knew how much Amara loved that toy, so she knew how meaningful it was that she shared it with anyone. “It’s very nice,” Arya said, running her fingers over the wood. “Do you like it?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Favit.” 

She had to resist the urge to laugh at the confused expression that passed over Arya’s face. She could see how desperately she was trying to understand, but she didn’t. Daenerys could relate to this well. When Amara had first begun speaking she hadn’t been able to understand more than the occasional word. Now she was fluent in the child’s dialect, and that allowed her to understand the fragments of words that Amara often mumbled. 

“She’s saying that the wolf is her favorite,” Daenerys finally explained, when she thought Arya had suffered enough. 

Looking to Daenerys, her appreciation and embarrassment showed on her face. “Thank you, I’m not very good with kids.” 

“You’re doing fine,” Daenerys said in disagreement. “It took me a long time to feel comfortable with her too. For a year after you left I was certain everything I said and did was wrong.” 

“Play,” Amara said as she swung the dragon around above her head. 

Knowing how insistent her daughter could be, Daenerys felt obligated to spare Arya. “Sweetheart, Arya travelled far to visit. She’s too tired to pla…”

“I’d love to play,” Arya announced, interrupting the defense that was apparently not required. “Do you want to be the dragon or the wolf?”

R-C

For more than an hour they played together. Sometimes they played alone and other times they involved Daenerys in their games. For someone who claimed she didn’t know how to act around children Arya was a natural. She constantly praised Amara’s abilities and listened intently to everything the little girl had to say. She knew she should be ruling her kingdoms, and handling matters of state but Daenerys couldn’t bring herself to look away from Arya and Amara together. 

Light scratching at the door caught the attention of all three. The adults looked at one another. “What’s that?” 

“It’s Nymeria, I think she misses Amara.”

Daenerys continued to listen to the scratching. “Really? How can you be sure?” 

“Instinct.”

On the other side of the door Nym was waiting. As soon as Daenerys opened it wide enough she darted through, making a line straight for the Starks. Upon seeing her Amara shouted, “Ny!” 

Arya’s response was more subdued. She held out a hand to the beast. “Hey girl.” 

Sitting down on the floor between her mother and her direwolf Amara grinned. “Watch!” she said to Arya, before she turned her head to Nymeria. “Paw,” she said, holding out her hand. Just as happened during the feast Nymeria obeyed and offered her front right paw to Amara, pressing it down on her hand. 

Arya and Daenerys laughed together. “That’s very good,” Arya said, ruffling her hair. “Did you teach her that?”

Nodding proudly, she rubbed Nym behind her ear. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s very good,” she said again. “Want to see her do another trick?”

Excited Amara yelled and clapped. “Yes!”

Arya chuckled and stood up from where she’d been sitting. Daenerys didn’t know what she was planning, but knew it was going to be more unexpected than asking for the wolf’s paw. She found herself just as captivated as Amara as she waited to see what would happen. 

Standing in the center of the room, several feet away from Amara and Nymeria, she whistled and called for the wolf’s attention, once she had it, she smiled again, that barely there, slight smile of hers. “Nym, jump!”

For an instant Daenerys was actually scared as the direwolf bared her teeth and growled viciously. In a flash of fur, she leapt off the ground and struck Arya with force. The two tumbled to the floor so hard Daenerys almost asked if she was okay. Before she could though she heard Amara’s delighted laughter which was quickly met by Arya’s. 

Amara rushed to the spot where Arya was lying, pinned under Nymeria’s strong body. She lied down next to her mother, mimicking her pose. Arya turned her head and looked at the child. “Nym, lick!”

Without moving off Arya she swung her head and lowered it to Amara’s face. Suddenly her jaws opened and her long, pink tongue slipped out. She licked down the center of Amara’s face, from her forehead to her chin. Amara shrieked, squealed and squirmed in response, a sight that was equally endearing to both her mothers. 

It was then that Daenerys realized just how much she was in for. She thought of all the times she’d seen Amara wrestling with Nymeria, and then she thought of Nym tackling Arya to the ground with teeth exposed, only to be rewarded with laughs. Yes, they really were similar. Strangely the thought made her happy. Like mother, like daughter. 

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Thank you for reading. I’m happy so many people enjoyed the last chapter. I wasn’t sure how Kenning would come across, but I’m a sucker for Daenerys and Tyrion’s friendship, so I put him in and gave them a common enemy. 
> 
> To those of you who wanted Arya to kill Kenning and tell him why she was really there, I hope you aren’t too disappointed. Kenning is useful for a little longer, but I don’t like his chances of surviving to the end of this story. 
> 
> Take Care,  
> Russell Craig


	9. Chapter 9

She moved silently around the castle, sticking to the shadows. With expert skill she avoided both servants and soldiers, keeping her head down and moving quickly when it was impossible to pass them unknowingly. If she hadn’t been blinded all those years ago, it might have been difficult, but with her other senses so honed it was child’s play. It felt strange being back, but she knew her reasons were good and she tried to force her unease down deep, no matter how real it was.

She was just about to slip through an open door when Daenerys’s voice caught her attention. “This is unbelievable!” she shouted loudly. The assassin tensed as she listened, peeking around the partially opened door. The Queen was wearing her typically silk dress, this time in a deep blue color, her hair was braided and tied back away from her face. She could see the redness in her cheeks and her obvious frustration as she threw up her hands. 

Not knowing what the problem was didn’t matter, she felt a strong desire to help, so she kept her head down as she danced out into the hall and gripped the Queen’s arm, bending down to whisper in her ear. “Come,” she commanded. Daenerys’s response was to gasp and pivot toward her. It took only a moment for the recognition to reach her violet eyes and she nodded in agreement. 

The Dragon obeyed and the killer guided them to the room she’d just left. It was a small storage room of sorts and it was entirely empty, making it perfect for a conversation. “What’s wrong?” 

Her hand stayed on Daenerys’s upper arm long after it was no longer necessary. “I can’t find Amara.”

Terror filled every inch of her, from her toes to her shaggy hair. “What?!”

When Daenerys smiled, she wanted to strike her. Exactly what about this was funny? “No, no,” she said as she resisted the urge to laugh. “We were playing a game, but she’s too good at hide and seek.” 

Relief moved through her with every beat of her heart, causing her to wobble on unsteady legs as her knees felt unable to keep her upright. She reached out and gripped a shelf to keep from falling. “She’s okay?” she verified. 

“Arya she’s fine,” Daenerys assured her, “I promise, she’s hiding some place. I’ve checked all her favorite spots, and she’s not in any of them. It’s been nearly an hour.”

Taking a deep breath that she quickly pushed out between barely open lips she nodded her understanding. “I’ll find her. Don’t worry Daenerys.”

Without thinking about her audience she reached up and pressed her finger into the edge of her scar, feeling the burn that it caused. Her lips mumbled a memorized prayer and slowly her features began to shift. 

“Gods you really can do it.”

Wearing the face of a man, Arya blushed. “I’ll need it, if I’m going to move about the keep freely. I’ll find her.”

Together they left the store room and went their separate ways. She walked quickly without running, peeking behind every door and checking in every corner. After nearly twenty minutes of searching she moved up a particularly narrow staircase and found herself in a long hallway with three rooms on each side. She couldn’t explain it but her instincts told her to try the second door on the left, so she started there. Inside was a perfectly made bedroom that clearly had not been used in ages. She was just about to leave and try another door when she heard a soft growl from inside the closet. 

The door’s handle was broken, making it almost indistinguishable from the rest of the wall, but as she got closer she knew she’d found the right spot. Looking around to confirm she was alone she returned her face to its natural state and then slipped her fingers into the space where the doorknob had once been. When she opened the door she found a pleasurable sight. Amara was sitting happily in the dark, holding her dragon toy in one hand and the wolf in the other as she guided them about in a game only she could understand. She stopped playing the instant the door opened, jumping up to her feet. “Wolf!”

“There you are,” she said as Amara rushed out into her arms. She caught her in a hug and squeezed as she picked her up and swung her around in a wide circle. “Your mama has been looking for you.”

“I hide,” she said once she was returned to her own two feet. 

Arya couldn’t help but smile. “I know. You are a good hider.”

“Mama not find,” she announced proudly. 

With a chuckle she ruffled the girl’s hair. “You’re right your mama couldn’t find you.”

“I hide good.”

“You hide very good,” she agreed. Picking her up and laying her over her shoulder as though she were carrying a sack the murderer heard nothing but laughter and giggles as they left the room and went out into the hall. “Come on, let’s go find your mama.”

R-C

“How many people know the truth?” Arya asked as she and Daenerys sat together in the room that had been hers for nearly a week. She’d spent the whole day moving about with another woman’s face, but now that they were alone she wore the face she was born with. Daenerys was still struggling to get used to seeing her in so many different masks. 

The way she said ‘the truth’ made it perfectly clear what she was talking about. “Including me, five people.” She named them in turn, ticking them off on her fingers as she went. 

“Do any of them know I’m here?”

“Only Missandei,” Daenerys admitted. “She was with me in the stables and saw you when you returned from Kayce.”

“I remember. She’s your handmaiden?”

Daenerys couldn’t hold back the short laugh that slid out of her mouth. “Missandei hasn’t been anyone’s handmaiden for a long time now.”

“She was a slave.”

Although it was a statement more than a question Daenerys answered it anyway. “She was. She was a translator for one of the Masters. I gave her freedom and in return she gifted me with loyalty, friendship and wise council.”

“The day you killed the Masters and freed the slaves was the day the House of Black and White swore they’d never take a contract on your life.” Arya rewarded her with a slight smile, the corner of her lip turning up. “You can do little wrong in their eyes now.”

Daenerys wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. She’d freed many slaves and killed many Masters but she hadn’t done it curry favor or earn friends. She’d done it because it was the right thing to do. No one should live in chains. No one should be forced into a collar for the pleasure of some rich noble’s son. “That is very kind.”

“You can tell the others I’m here if you want.”

“Are you certain? I don’t mind keeping the secret.”

“Secrets like this never stay hidden for long. Tell them, I don’t mind, but I think the Lannister might disapprove.”

“Don’t you worry about Tyrion,” she said confidently. “I’ll handle him.” After a moment she realized the message hidden in Arya’s offer. “Does it worry you, that the secret might be revealed?”

“Yes,” she confessed, looking down into her lap to avoid Daenerys’s eye. “I worry about the day that one of my enemies learn who Amara is. I worry about what will happen to you and her then.”

“We will keep her safe,” Daenerys promised, “together.” Looking around the room she could see it was almost exactly as it was before Arya had moved in. “Why have you not unpacked your things? Are you planning on leaving?” The thought upset her more than she cared to admit. 

Narrow shoulders shrugged in reply. “I don’t have many things Daenerys.”

The comment was made so casually it was sad. In that moment Daenerys vowed she’d go and find a present for Arya, some small token she could take with her to remember her visit, to remember her, and Amara too. 

“Will you leave soon?” she wondered, fearing the answer. 

She paused to think before replying, causing Daenerys’s concern to double. “I’ll go when I need to,” she declared. She had seemed to be finished, but then added, “Or when you wish me gone.”

The Queen couldn’t imagine a time when she’d ever send Arya away, but she understood what the Northern woman was saying. She reached out and took Arya’s hand. “You’re welcome here for as long as you want. It can be your home.”

“The Many Faced God will require my services eventually, and He will find me when the time comes.”

“And you’ll go kill someone?” she asked tentatively, not wanting to upset her friend, but feeling required to clarify. 

“This is who I am Daenerys,” she said as though it were an indisputable fact. “I can’t change, it’s too late for that. I’m too far gone now.”

She squeezed the hand she refused to release to emphasize her point. “It is not who you are!” she said forcefully. “It may be what you do, but it’s not who you are. You can change, all you need to do is want to.”

“It’s not that simple,” Arya said in a barely heard whisper. 

Daenerys understood all too well just how difficult it can be to change. She’d gone from being a princess in exile to being a Khaleesi and then she became a Queen. “The things worth having are never simple Arya, but that doesn’t make them impossible. Think about it, please. You’re not alone anymore and it’s okay to ask for help.”

Watching Arya’s expression, she might have thought the other woman hadn’t heard her, except for the almost unnoticeable nod that was gone far too quickly. Sensing the need for a lighter conversation she stood from her chair, keeping her grip on Arya’s hand. “Missandei should be helping Amara get ready for bed. Care to join me for story time?”

The stunned expression on the assassin’s face was almost comical. “Really? I know it is usually your favorite time, for you and Amara alone.”

“It is,” Daenerys agreed, “but I don’t mind sharing her with you.”

R-C

Once again Daenerys went to Tyrion rather than the other way around. She wanted to take advantage of the privacy the Hand’s Tower afforded her. 

“Arya Stark is here?” Tyrion asked as he poured himself a fresh glass of wine. Daenerys pretended not to notice the way his hands shook at the news. “Are you certain?”

“Yes Tyrion, she’s been here for days,” she admitted with an indulgent smile. “I invited her to visit and see Amara.”

“Why would you do that?!” He drained his glass dry. “Seven Hells, you’ll probably come to my bedchamber tomorrow and find me dead.” 

“She’s not going to harm you Tyrion,” she promised as she tried not to laugh at his anxiety. 

“She will. My sister tried to have her killed when she was a girl. My nephew had her father beheaded, and my father was instrumental in the murder of her mother, and brother at the Twins. If that weren’t bad enough, my brother Jamie pushed her little brother from a high window at Winterfell and crippled him, and I was forced to marry her sister in a cruel plot my father devised. She has no shortage of reason to want me dead.”

Daenerys was momentarily speechless. She knew all the facts, but she’d never heard Tyrion speak so bluntly on the subject and it was troubling to hear it now. As he listed off his family transgressions Daenerys couldn’t help but wonder if Arya did hold a grudge. She’d never mentioned it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. She tried again to reassure him, the humor gone from her voice. “Tyrion, I promise you she will not harm you.”

“You don’t understand,” he said with fear etched across his scarred face. “If she wants my blood she’ll have it, no matter how many guards you place outside my door.”

Before she could formulate a reply a third party announced itself. “The Imp’s right,” Arya said before she stepped into view. “If I wished him dead there would be no place he could hide.”

Daenerys was almost afraid to ask. “And do you wish him ill?”

The pause before she answered felt far longer than it likely was, and she imagined it was even worse for Tyrion, who had no color remaining in his face. “He’s the Hand of the Queen, and I’m loyal to you Daenerys. As long as he remains in your service, he has no reason to fear me.”

Daenerys felt lighter hearing that assurance. “What of your shared past?”

When she answered she addressed Tyrion directly. “I’ve done my research and I know you weren’t aware of most of your sister’s plots, nor your father’s. I have also spoken with Sansa and I know that you were kind to her, far kinder than anyone else in this wretched hole and for that alone you have my gratitude and my thanks.” 

Tyrion seemed too shocked to reply so Daenerys did the talking for him. “Very well then. Was there something you needed Arya?”

“You asked me to come and find you when Amara was ready for lunch.”

Daenerys smiled warmly, pleased with the change in topic. “Yes of course. Would you like to join us Tyrion?”

“No thank you, your Grace,” he said in a shaky voice that matched his wobbling hands. “I think I’ll stay here and have another drink, or three.” 

R-C

Amara and her birth mother were playing behind a locked door in one of the keep’s many rooms. Lying flat on her back on the floor she had Amara in her arms, lifting her high into the air. In the recesses of her mind she remembered how her father had once done the same thing with her. 

Each time she lowered Amara to rest against her body, she kissed her nose or one of her cheeks. “More,” she said and the assassin obliged, lifting her up again, if for no other reason than to hear her gleeful cries. 

They played for hours before Amara reached out and attempted to touch the sword she wore on her hip. Quick hands stopped her from getting her target. “No,” she said, taking hold of her wrist and guiding it away gently. “That’s not a toy. It’s dangerous,” she said in explanation, hoping Amara could understand. 

“I want,” she said, trying to go for the weapon again. All the blood sudden left her body. She felt hallow and empty as she steered Amara away. She sat in a chair and pulled the girl into her lap. “That’s not a toy,” she said again. “And hopefully you’ll never need to use one.” 

She knew it was unlikely that Amara, the heir to the Targaryen crown would never have to draw a sword but she allowed herself to hope. Since the day she was born she promised to give hr a good life, a better life than the assassin could provide, and she’d done that. Daenerys was a great mother. She’d made a wise choice. Still, it was her prerogative to want more for Amara than she had. Wasn’t that what parents do?

The thought of Amara in combat turned her stomach. Her scarred body was a reminder of all the pain she suffered, all the hurt and all the death. She didn’t want that for her. She wanted something better. She kissed the girl’s forehead. “I’ll protect you, you don’t need that,” she whispered as her lips rested against the soft skin. 

The next time she asked for the sword Daenerys and Missandei were both with them. Once again she was quick to refuse, but Daenerys wasn’t so opposed. “She wants the sword?” she asked curiously. 

She answered with her eyes before her mouth followed. “It started a few days ago. I tried to tell her ‘no,’ to explain it was dangerous, but I’m not sure she understood.”

“Your sword is dangerous, but we could get her a wooden one that was safe.”

“She shouldn’t be playing with swords.” 

“She is her mother’s daughter,” Daenerys said. “Did you play with swords?” Didn’t you want to learn?”

Amara gave up trying to get the assassin’s sword and ran to talk to Missandei. Daenerys stood and approached, slowly as if she were dealing with a cornered animal. “I don’t want her to be like me, and you shouldn’t want that either Daenerys.”

The Queen stood so close that there was barely a hair’s breadth between them. She could smell her fragrant perfume and feel the warm breath against her face. An unexpected hand came up and touched her chin, starting at the bottom of her scar and working up. Unable to resist she leaned into the touch, forgetting about Amara and Missandei who were close enough to see them. “You Arya Stark are not nearly as wicked as you think you are. Amara would be lucky to grow up to be like her mother.” The words were accented with a kiss to her cheek. The soft feel of lips on her flesh was almost enough to elicit a moan but she held it in somehow. The touch lingered and pressed against the edge of her lips, close enough to make the killer wonder. 

As Daenerys leaned back and the heated lips left her skin, she felt suddenly cold. She wanted more. She knew then that she craved something she could never have, something simply untouchable. Eager to clear her mind she stepped back and sank down into a squat. Opening her arms, she called for Amara. “Come on, let’s go see if we can find Nymeria, I bet she’s around here somewhere.” 

She avoided the Queen’s intense stare as she and Amara left he the room. Although she tried not to think about it, the memory of the kiss still lingered even as she carried Amara down the hall, away from the object of her desire. 

R-C

Two figures crept through the Red Keep, moving quietly and staying low to the ground. One led while the other followed close behind. They avoided the Unsullied with skill and headed in the direction of the throne room. 

No words were spoken as they moved down one corridor and then another. With the doors to the throne room in sight they made a sharp right turn. One more left and they reached their destination. The kitchen staff were busy preparing the Queen’s dinner. Remaining low, they crawled along the floor until they found their prize. Small hands reached up for the sweet mints stored in a large glass bowl. She plucked out two with a contented smile and looked at her leader with pride shining in her eyes. “Good girl,” she praised as they retreated. 

In the hall both stood tall. The assassin picked up the little girl into her arms and hugged her close. With a giggle she held up the mints she’d worked so hard for. “Got two,” she announced. 

She set her back down and then nudged her braided hair, causing it to swing from side to side. “You did good, you’re very sneaky.”

With a toothy grin she popped one of the mints into her mouth while she held the other out to her friend. “For you.”

The assassin was touched by the offer but she shook her head. “You keep it you might need a treat later.” With a tender touch she closed Amara’s hand around the mint, leaving it in her palm. 

They were nearly back to the room where they played, with Amara now in the lead. A voice stopped her dead in her tracks. It was a voice she’d know anywhere. “Valar Dohaeris.” 

She whipped around quickly, hiding Amara completely with her body. To keep the girl in place she subtly reached behind her and gripped the front of her dress. “Valar Morghulis,” she said in reply. 

Although the face was not his she knew him. “Strange place to find a girl,” he said as he moved to her right. Hidden from view he touched his face and shifted it back to the one she’d recognize. 

She moved as he did, using the grace of a water dancer to keep Amara out of his sight. The lie came easily, just as he’d taught her. “My sister was visiting, I wanted to see her, once I had, I had no reason to leave.” 

“The Many Faced God requires your service,” he told her. 

“Give me the name.”

“You’re going to a place called Kayce.”

R-C

Daenerys peeked around the corner, searching for the wandering duo. Arya and Amara were constantly sneaking about the castle, playing games and stealing treats from the kitchen. Daenerys thought it was adorable, but she grew frustrated each time she tried to find them. 

She was excited by her idea and she wanted to share the details with the two people she planned to enjoy it with. She saw Jorah talking to one of the Dothraki. “Have you seen Amara?”

“Last I saw her she was in the north wing. Is something wrong Khaleesi?”

“Not at all,” she assured him. “I just miss my daughter.”

“I can help you search,” he offered kindly. 

“That’s not necessary. Continue with your talk,” she said, tilting her chin toward the Dothraki Blood Rider. “I know she’s around here somewhere.”

As she continued to looking in vain, it was Amara who found her. In Arya’s arms she lifted her high enough that the Amara could place her small hands over the Queen’s eyes. “Guess who,” she said in obvious delight. 

Daenerys couldn’t contain her smile. “Um… Grey Worm?”

She heard an adult laugh as the hands fell away. “No mama it me.” 

Daenerys turned around and snatched her right out of Arya’s arms. “Amara, just the person I wanted to see. Are you having fun with Arya?”

“Uh-huh, we sneaky.”

Daenerys tickled the girl. “Yes, you’re very sneaky I’ve been looking for you two everywhere.”

Arya was immediately on alert, her grey eyes scanning her surroundings. “Is something the matter, your Grace?”

Shifting Amara to her left, she placed her right hand on Arya’s arm. “No, everything is fine, I just wanted to see you.” She let the words sink in before she continued. “Amara’s name day is approaching and I thought perhaps you, her and I could go on a picnic together. There are plenty of nice spots outside the gates and I know Amara would love it. We could bring Nymeria too,” she added as an afterthought. 

“That sounds great Daenerys, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

The words cut deep and the hurt moved through her body with speed before it came to rest like a rock in her stomach. “Why not?” Her voice was unsteady but she couldn’t worry about that now. She’d been looking forward to the picnic since she came up with the idea. Missandei promised to help and Daenerys had grand plans. It wouldn’t be the same without Arya. 

“I have to leave,” she said. 

Rocking backward slightly, Daenerys set her daughter down on the floor between the two adults. “You’re leaving? Why?” 

She tried to catch Arya’s eye, but the assassin was looking down at Amara. It took a long moment and Daenerys felt her heart racing in her chest as she waited to hear the response. 

“The Many Faced God requires my services. I can’t refuse. I’m leaving today, I just wanted to spend a bit more time with Amara before I left.”

While Amara danced happily around them, completely oblivious to the serious conversation her mothers were having Daenerys felt as though her legs might fail. She took a step toward Arya, wanting to be closer to her, for as long as she could. “Will you be returning?” she asked when she felt brave enough. 

“I’m not sure,” she answered quickly. “It might take a while.” 

“Come back,” Daenerys commanded as forcefully as she could. Her voice weakened to a low whisper. “Come back soon.”

“Are you sure? I’ve had plenty of time to see Amara. I bet you’d like things to go back to normal.”

She couldn’t resist, she closed the remaining distance between them and reached up to comb her fingers through the mess of dark hair. “I don’t want you gone,” she said as she leaned closer. “I don’t. Your place is here Arya, with Amara and with me.”

Daenerys could tell her words had hit their mark. It was quick but she saw a flicker of emotion on the usually stoic face she adored. “Come back,” she said again. 

Relenting under the pressure Arya seemed unable to refuse. “I will,” she finally promised. 

Lifting up onto her toes she pressed a kiss against the assassin’s cheek. She placed it as close to the edge of her mouth as she dared. She wanted more. She wanted to drag Arya into the nearest room and kiss her properly, she wanted to feel the rough hands skimming over her body and she wanted to feel the soft lips dancing along her skin. She had no doubt Arya would be a spectacular lover, Daenerys’s only doubts revolved around how she might tell her secret to the Northern woman. 

“I’ll see you soon then,” Daenerys whispered as she dropped down onto her heels. She stayed close to Arya, enjoying the way it made her feel. She hadn’t felt this way for a long time. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

R-C

Three days outside King’s Landing she reached a tavern that doubled as a brothel. She was no stranger to purchasing companionship, so after a hot meal her eyes shifted to the women. While relationships weren’t forbidden at the temple, as they were for those on the Wall, she knew very few Faceless Men who managed it successfully. 

For her the idea of a permanent relationship was impossible. Who could love her after all she’d done? There was too much hate in her heart, and too much blood on her hands. 

She made her choice quickly and took the girl straight up to the room she’d rented. “My name’s Kyra,” she said as they entered. 

Kyra had long blonde hair that was almost silver and she wore a golden dress. The assassin tried not to think about why she’d picked this woman over all the others. The hair was the same, but that’s where the similarity ended. Her face didn’t hold the natural beauty Daenerys’s did. Her nose was too big, and her eyes were the wrong color. Appealing as they might have been to another, the rich brown almost had her sending Kyra back downstairs. Likewise, her figure was too voluptuous, too curvy with larger breasts than the real Queen’s. Still, she knew she’d have to take what she could get. She could work with this. 

While she was lost in thought a gentle hand touched her face, starting on her cheek and moving to the large scar that marked her. “What happened?”

Without comment she took the girl’s hand by her wrist and guided it down, off her face and to her body. It was quiet for a minute until she said, “Many people think I look like the Queen, is that why you chose me? I can be a Queen for you tonight.”

This time she finally spoke. “No more talking,” she instructed as her hands settled on the woman’s shapely hips. In her mind she pictured Daenerys and it made her smile. With strong hands she rotated the woman, until her back was to the Rabid Wolf. Her hands roamed up the thin dress until she came to a stop on Kyra’s shoulders. As her mouth hovered near her ear, breathing hard, her calloused hands nudged the straps of her dress downward. The fabric pooled at her feet and left her naked. She tried to turn but the assassin stopped her. 

“What do you....” She never got to finish her statement as the hands left her shoulders and came to rest on her large breasts. She massaged them in her hands, teasing the nipples until they were hard points. She was rewarded with a moan as Kyra pushed her ass back into her crotch. 

With one hand alternating between her breasts the other roamed until she took hold of the blonde hair that reminded her of someone else. She pushed her fingers through it first, enjoying the soft feel, then she wrapped it around her knuckles and pulled hard. Kyra’s head was forced back and she whimpered in surprise before the killer’s mouth landed on her neck and began sucking. 

Moans echoed around the room and it fueled the assassin’s passion. She wanted what she couldn’t have, but this was close enough. When the whore attempted to turn her head, to look at the woman who purchased her, she was held firmly in place. 

Finally, the hand left the breasts she was enjoying and wandered down toward her prize. Her teeth dug into Kyra’s neck and she was certain she was going to leave a mark. With force she pushed her onto the bed, face down and she quickly went to work on her clothes, stripping herself nude. 

When she tried to roll over, she was again stopped. “Don’t turn around and don’t speak.” Accompanying her words were actions. She climbed onto the bed and mounted her woman like an animal. Again, she pulled the familiar hair and set her mouth to work on the other side of Kyra’s smooth throat. Skilled hands slipped under her and within seconds she found the wet heat she was desperate for. “Don’t look,” she pleaded, knowing it would only destroy the fantasy playing in her head. 

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: For those who wanted Daenerys and Arya together, I hope you’re pleased that they are at least heading in that direction. Feel free to let me know what you think and thank you for reading. 
> 
> Russell Craig


	10. Chapter 10

The sun was shining and Daenerys was enjoying a leisurely walk through her capital city. Amara ran a few step ahead, while she and Missandei shared a lighthearted conversation about Amara’s sudden request to dress like the Dothraki. Ser Jorah was beside them, always listening but rarely speaking and no fewer than eight Blood Riders were nearby, close enough to strike if needed. While the Unsullied were willing to fight and die for Amara, the Dothraki had a more visceral, primal reason to keep her safe. For years they’d heard Daenerys was unable to bear children. Some had been there when she made her bargain with the witch and all the others had heard about it. To them Amara was a gift from the Great Stallion. 

Since the moment she left the keep she’d been unable to resist smiling. She’d been cooped up in there for too long. When they passed all eyes were on them, some called out to her, others thanked her for the changes she’d made in the city, but more often people just waved. Amara was more than happy to wave back.

In the market the merchants were momentarily stunned when she approached their carts, but they recovered quickly and all were kind and the prices fair. Many of the food vendors insisted on giving a free treat to little Amara. Wanting to ensure she learned her manners, Daenerys required her daughter to thank each and every generous merchant. By the time they reached the Street of Steel Amara’s hands were sticky with a mix of fruit juice and sugar. Secretly Daenerys was thrilled Amara wasn’t wearing one of her fine dresses. She knew from experience it was easier to get stains out of leather, than it was to remove them from silk. 

As they passed the first of the smiths Daenerys’s steps slowed and she called for Amara to slow down, not wanting her to get too far ahead. Her eyes scanned the wares. She didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but she hoped that when she saw it, she’d know. Swords, daggers, axes, there really was no shortage of ways to kill someone. She saw curved blades, straight blades, serrated blades and tapered blades. It was overwhelming, she didn’t know the first thing about any of this. 

“Are you looking for something specific Khaleesi?” Jorah asked when she stopped at the second stall to compare the goods to the first. 

She looked over her shoulder at her knight. “I need to pick up a couple of things for Amara’s name day. I also want to find a gift for Arya.”

“You don’t owe that woman anything!”

Looking to Amara Daenerys couldn’t disagree more. She drew Jorah’s eye to Amara as well and then she voiced her opinion. “How can you say that? Think about all she’s given me, given us, and I don’t just mean with Amara, but long before that.”

“She had her own reasons for doing everything she did. Please,” he implored, “don’t trick yourself into believing any of that was for you.”

“It is a gift, not a marriage proposal.” Her tone made it clear the conversation was done and Daenerys turned back to her shopping. 

A middle aged man with red hair and a long beard stood behind the counter. Like all the others he was surprised to find the Mother of Dragons standing in front of him. “Y…your Grace, how can I be of service?” 

As he spoke her eyes darted to Amara, who was dancing about ten feet away, with Missandei and a Blood Rider close by. “Do you have training swords?” she asked. “The wooden kind that can’t cut?”

If he thought her question odd, he didn’t show it. “Aye, I do.” He moved away from the counter and disappeared behind a curtain. When he returned, he had a young woman with him, and they each held a pair of wooden swords, each one clearly made from a different type of wood. They set them out on the counter in turn. “Your Grace, this’s my daughter Yelena.”

The girl blushed as Daenerys’s attention shifted to her. She bowed her head respectfully. “Pleasure to meet you, your Grace.”

“Pleasure to meet you Yelena. Thank you for helping me out today.”

“Of… of course your Grace,” she stammered but Daenerys acted as though she didn’t. 

Her fingers skimmed over the wood, feeling its smoothness, making sure the edges were truly as dull as she’d been led to believe. Picking one up to test the weight, she realized just how heavy it was. It had the weight of a real sword, likely so soldiers could get used to the feel. “Do you have anything smaller?”

“Small’r, your Grace?” the man attempted to clarify. 

“I’m looking for a sword for my daughter, but these are much too big,” she explained. 

The man smiled widely. “Oh yes the Lil’ Dragon, I understand.” It was quiet for a moment while he considered her request. “I’m afraid all I have are swords like these,” he admitted, “but I make them me’self in the back there, and I could make one special for her if you like.” 

She smiled. “That is very kind. I’d like that very much.” 

Turning to her right she found Jorah watching her closely. She held out her hand, a request for the coins he was carrying. She reached inside the leather pouch and removed four golden dragons, setting them down on the counter. “For your supplies and your time.” 

“Tha… that’s very generous your Grace,” the man said, as his eyes bounced from her, to the coins and back. “Is there anythin’ else you’ll be need’n?”

“I need a gift for a friend, can you show me your finest goods?”

“What sorta goods is you look’n for?”

“A sword, or perhaps a dagger.”

“O’course, your Grace.” This time Yelena and the smith took three trips to remove the wooden swords and carry out others. They made another to bring out the daggers. When they were finished the entire counter was covered in steel. Jorah approached from behind her to admire the weapons and Daenerys’s eyes went from one item to the next. 

Some swords were clearly for show, while others were utterly menacing looking. Some were accented with golden pommels and elaborate designs but Daenerys knew she was looking for something far more traditional and functional. Just as she’d hoped she knew it when she saw it. Amongst the daggers there was a short, silver handled, double edged blade that tapered to a viscous looking point. She held it to test its weight and admired the way the sun reflected off both the shiny steel and the silver. This was a weapon she could picture Arya using. And knowing Arya, use it she would. 

Before she could purchase it Amara came racing up and stuck herself to her mother’s legs. Ser Jorah moved to take her but Daenerys waved him off. Reaching down she picked her daughter up in her arms, lifting her high enough to see the top of the counter. Just as she was, Amara was fascinated by the wide ranging selection of murderous tools. Bouncing her up and down she spoke to her. “We need to find a present for Arya,” she said, “do you think you can help mama with that?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh.”

With her other hand Daenerys held up the dagger she’d selected. “This is mama’s favorite. Do you think Arya will like it?”

Again Amara nodded, shaking so hard she nearly slipped right out of Daenerys’s arms. “It pretty.”

“I think it’s very pretty too,” Daenerys agreed, leaning down to kiss Amara on the tip of the nose. This earned a giggle from the girl and chuckles from the adults surrounding her. Setting the dagger back on the counter she addressed the smith. “I think we’ve made our choice.”

“A fine choice, your Grace, one of my finest pieces b’far.”

“Amara’s right, it’s beautiful and exactly what I was looking for. Thank you.” 

Just as she’d done with every one of the merchants who offered her a snack Amara was quick to add her voice to the conversation. “Tank you!” Daenerys couldn’t help but be a little proud. 

R-C

Since she was definitely not dead she expected the gates of Kayce to still be closed. She was right they were, but she had a plan and she’d come prepared. Days earlier she’d happened upon a merchant heading in the opposite direction. He was an old man with greying hair and a slow, deliberate gait. She offered to buy his cart and all its contents and after a brief negotiation, the man accepted. 

She could have killed him and stolen his cart, but paying him felt cleaner. Now, wearing a Southern woman’s face she pushed her cart to the gate and waited. She didn’t have to wait long to be noticed, but one look up onto the wall and she knew she wasn’t dealing with proper soldiers. “City’s closed,” a man yelled. 

“I bring goods,” she yelled back, “for the brave men of Kayce who are keeping us safe.” Under her mask the assassin smiled. Perhaps she was laying it on a little thick, but it was going to work and that was all that mattered. 

“Fine then, but no weapons.”

“I’m a humble merchant Ser, I carry no weapons,” she lied. The gate raised slowly and she waited until it was completely up to pass through. Inside she took note of the guards. She’d been right, Kenning hadn’t had time to train new soldiers, so he’d hired sell swords to hold his land. The men were all dressed in different manner of armor, no two looked alike. One was pacing about, having a drink, while he left his axe resting on a crate several feet away. Two more appeared to be asleep. It pleased her that Kenning’s troops were so pathetic, these men couldn’t mount an attack against Daenerys, they’d pass out or switch sides long before they could reach King’s Landing.

She’d come for a man named Marino. Marino held the distinction of being the wealthiest man in Kayce. Having swooped in after she’d finished the Lannisters, he took control of the mines that gave Tywin his power and money. Despite his extensive influence, and his nearly limitless wealth he’d angered someone enough to have a contract put out on his life. 

Pushing her cart toward the water, where the most opulent houses were, she strategized how she’d kill Marino. A man with so much money was likely to have guards, and lots of them, but that didn’t matter. She could sneak in unnoticed and meet the man in his bed, or she could sell him poisonous spices and just wait to for him to make use of them. 

As she wandered toward her prey she was stopped several times by people who wanted to see her stock or make a purchase. 

On the shoreline, she needed only stop three people and ask polite, probing questions to learn which of the massive estates belonged to Marino. Once she had her destination she hid the cart and prepared for work. She’d wait until nightfall, and then climb the wall surrounding the property. Perhaps she’d kill a guard and make use of his face, or maybe she’d spare them all and kill no one but him.

R-C

Everything was going according to plan. She was over the wall and using her silent steps to avoid the patrolling guards. Marino’s home was even bigger than it looked from the outside. She dodged no fewer than five women as she passed the kitchen and another two servants before she reached the staircase. 

On the second level she went straight for the room at the end of the hall with its big double doors with the gold handles. That’s where Marino was, no man of his stature would sleep in an inferior room. She closed the door behind her and waited to see if he stirred. When he didn’t she stepped toward the bed. 

He was much younger than she’d expected. She thought it’d be the oldest, most clever man who would move in to claim the Lannister mines, but maybe it was just a question of who was the fastest. It would have been easy to kill him in his sleep, but such an assassination always felt so disappointing. If he was asleep, she couldn’t see the look in his eyes the moment he realized he was going to die, she couldn’t hear him barter to try and save his life and she couldn’t feel his fear. So, she woke him, whistling while she slapped him on his upturned cheek. 

“S…seven Hells,” he exclaimed as he rolled onto his back. At first he didn’t appear to even see her, but then he blinked quickly a few times and he squinted as he stared at her scarred face. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

He tried to sit up and the sheet slid down his body, exposing his bare, hairless chest. “I’m afraid we have a problem Marino?”

“How do you know my name?” he asked in a calm voice. She knew the moment he meant to call for aid because his mouth opened wider and he pulled in more air in preparation for a loud scream. Her hand flashed out and struck him in the windpipe, keeping their conversation private. “Yell for the guards and you’ll make this far more painful than it needs to be,” she promised. To make her point perfectly clear she drew the dagger from her sleeve. His big blue eyes widened at the sight. 

“What do you want?” he asked after he’d finished coughing. 

She ignored his question, tossing the dagger from one hand to the other. “Have you been a bad boy Marino?”

“What?” He gave her a strange look, clearly not understanding what was happening. 

“You must have done something pretty bad, otherwise why would someone want to kill you?”

“Ki…kill me? Who?!” he demanded to know, as he rubbed his injured throat. 

“That’s right,” she told him. “A contract was paid for your life and I came to fulfill that contract.”

She watched him closely for the exact moment recognition reached his brain and the realization settled on his face. “W…wait… wait,” he said, scurrying back in his bed, until he was pressed tightly against the headboard. She resisted the urge to laugh, as if the added space of a few inches would actually keep him safe. “I know things.”

Completely uninterested she played along. “What things do you know?”

“I…I… I know Lord Kenning is getting a visit… a visitor, and I kn…know he’s bringing chests and chests of gold so Kenning can buy an army.”

Unexpected as it was, Marino now had her full attention. “Who’s coming?” When he didn’t answer fast enough she asked again, with more intensity. “Who’s bringing the gold?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. Looking into her unforgiving grey eyes, he seemed to sense the danger. “No one does,” he added quickly. 

“When are they arriving?”

“Soon, any day now. Lord Kenning had all the boats removed from the harbor, to make room for his ships.” 

Holding the dagger in front of her, it came to a stop just in front of his face. “Is there anything else you can tell me about this visitor, think hard?”

“J…just that Lord Kenning believes he will help him get everything he wants. I heard him bragging about it not long ago.” 

Since what he wanted was Daenerys, she didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Thank you.”

“So w… we’re good then? You won’t kill me?”

She took one large stride toward the bed. “I never said that.” For the second time he attempted to scream and again he failed, this time it wasn’t because of a punch to his throat, but a fluid stroke of the dagger across the same area instead. She couldn’t spare him, no matter how valuable the information, but she could offer him a quick, clean death. She was gone before the flow of blood slowed, escaping through a large window. 

R-C

“I never thought I’d feel like this again,” Daenerys said as she sat with Missandei in her bedchamber. Amara was fast asleep, and the ladies were wrapping gifts, while they shared a bottle of wine. 

“You deserve happiness.”

“I cared about Darrio, I did, but when I left him I felt little. I didn’t long for him as I slept alone on the boat. I haven’t ached to see him since, nor missed his touch. This is entirely different.” 

The former slave gave her an understanding smile that urged her to go on. “It’s crazy really, I mean she’s only been gone a few days and already I want to invent a reason to visit Kayce just so I can see her.”

“We could come up with a reason I’m sure,” Missandei offered. “Love rarely makes much sense.”

She nearly choked on the air she’d been enjoying. “Lo…love? You can’t be serious, I hardly know her, it hasn’t been that long. I can’t love her.”

“I don’t think that’s a decision you get to make,” Missandei pointed out gently, “even if you are a Queen.” 

She stopped wrapping and set the package down, before she wringed her hands together. “I don’t even know if she’s interested and here I am acting like a lovesick child.” 

“If she doesn’t return your affections, she’s far stupider than I thought she was,” Missandei commented, her face wholly serious. 

Daenerys chuckled. “You’re my truest friend, you have to say that.”

Missandei, finished with her work, moved the gift off her lap and took hold of the Queen’s hand. “Yes, but even if I weren’t your friend, I’d still say it.” Their eyes met and Daenerys tried to express how grateful she was without words. “Besides, you’re giving her a beautiful gift.” 

Again she chuckled, this time for longer. “I doubt Arya Stark can be swayed by gifts.”

Missandei grinned wickedly. “Not flowers or candy no, but you’re giving her a flawless silver dagger.”

“Who would have guessed the way into Arya’s’ heart was with something sharp and completely dangerous?” 

R-C

Within minutes of Marino’s death, she was busy. First she went down to the dock and just as the murdered man foretold, she found it free of ships. She saw nothing coming over the horizon, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t soon arrive.

She doubled her efforts to get back to King’s Landing, pushing her horse further and further each day. The Red Keep came into view near midday. In the stables she tied up and fed the horse and then she made to leave. Before she could her route was blocked by a trio of women. Daenerys, Missandei and Amara stood together, clogging her path. Missandei held a basket in one hand. 

“Wolf!” Amara cried as she released her mother’s hand and ran straight to the assassin. She bent down just in time to catch her. 

After they hugged she held her at arm’s length. “Let me get a look at you,” she said, “you look older. Are you older?”

“Yep,” she answered happily. 

“Well, I’m sorry I missed it, but I’m back now.” She said this as much for Daenerys as Amara. She regretted having to refuse Daenerys’s offer of time with her and Amara, but she put off leaving for as long as she could. It couldn’t be delayed any longer, Marino needed to die. 

“I miss’d you,” she said as Amara attached herself to her tired legs. 

She pried her off gently. “I missed you too sweetheart. More than anything. I got a present for you.” 

She put Amara down again and reached into her saddle bag. “Why don’t you bring it to the picnic? Daenerys suggested. “We were just coming to see if you’d like to join us.” Before she could say she’d love to, Daenerys continued, “I know you’re probably tired and ready to rest, but it’d mean a lot to Amara and me if you’d come along.”

“Wasn’t the picnic for her name day?” 

“It is, but Amara and I discussed it and we decided to wait until you got back, so you didn’t have to miss it.” 

“That’s very thoughtful,” she said looking over Amara’s head to stare at Daenerys. Her mind tried to memorize the details, her silky skin, the way her eyes lit up when she looked at her daughter, or how her lips would twitch ever so slightly when she was joking or teasing someone. She wanted to remember it all. 

Her lip was twitching now. “Thank Amara, it was her idea.” 

Outside the stables, Unsullied joined them. She was glad they were there. Although she didn’t expect trouble yet, she knew it was better to be safe than sorry. She’d intended to tell Daenerys about what Marino had said immediately but now she was willing to wait, not wanting to ruin the picnic for anyone. 

They found a nice spot under a large oak. Missandei laid out a blanket, while Amara ran and played in the grass. “You didn’t need to wait for me,” she said when Daenerys came to stand next to her. “This is for Amara, not me.”

Daenerys shrugged but her expression remained unrepentant. “She wasn’t born today, true, but a week ago wasn’t the right day either. It was just a day I chose.” 

“Still….” She wasn’t sure what she was trying to say exactly. She just didn’t like the idea of Daenerys going out of her way to accommodate her. The killer knew she didn’t deserve such allowances.”

The four of them sat around the blanket, eating together and talking. Most of the conversation was to, or about Amara. Just as it should be. When the meal was done, she got up and got the gift she’d made for Amara’s name day celebration. 

“Are you ready for your present,” she asked, keeping her hands behind her back. Aware of the nicely wrapped packages, she regretted not wrapping hers, but it was too late to fix such things now. 

“Yep,” she said quickly, making a popping sound that caused a giggle. 

“Yes, please,” Daenerys corrected her. 

“Yes, please,” she repeated back. Daenerys rewarded her with a loud kiss on the cheek and she giggled again. 

“Good girl.”

She watched the interaction carefully and felt nothing but love and relief. She’d chosen well. Amara couldn’t have a more encouraging, kind, committed mother. 

When the attention turned back to her, and her present, she prolonged the inevitable by making the little girl close her eyes and hold out her hands. Once she did, she set another wooden figurine in her palm, one matching the wolf and the dragons she already had. This one was a lion, with a nice thick mane and long claws. 

Upon opening her eyes Amara saw the gift and clapped, slapping her newest toy with her empty hand to make the noise. “Yay.”

“This one’s a lion,” she told her. “I bet he’d like to play with the other toys you have, especially the baby dragon.” She was so uncertain she almost didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” As if to prove her point she rushed off and dove into the grass, practicing her roaring as she went. 

“That was very sweet,” Daenerys said as she wiggled closer to the assassin. 

“It wasn’t much, but I hope she likes it.”

Daenerys’s eyes moved to Amara who was busy talking to the lion like she expected it to respond. “I think she loves it already.” 

It was quiet on the blanket for a long time as they both watched their daughter. Missandei had gone off to play too, and the Unsullied were back far enough to give everyone the illusion of privacy. “I got something for you,” Daenerys said, surprising her as much by speaking as with the words themselves. 

“It’s not my name day,” she reminded her. 

She was already up off the ground, bending over the large basket in search of something. She tried not to, but her eyes lingered on the curve of her ass all the same. “Perhaps not,” she said without looking up, “but if we’re celebrating Amara then we are also celebrating you giving me the greatest gift of my life.”

Not wanting to speak too loudly and be overheard she waited until Daenerys was back on the blanket next to her, a cleanly wrapped package in her hands. The paper was a purple color that was a cheap imitation of Daenerys’s eyes. “I should be the one thanking you Daenerys. You did me a favor as I recall.”

“Yes and in return I was blessed with the most amazing girl while you rode away alone. It hardly seems fair.”

It had just been moments ago she had been thinking about how smart she’d been to leave Amara with Daenerys. Now she decided to share those thoughts out loud. “I don’t regret my decision. In fact, after seeing you with her, after seeing how much you love her, I know I couldn’t have made a better choice. I don’t regret leaving her that night, because it was the best thing for her and that’s what I told myself each night before I went to sleep, and every single morning when I woke up.”

Daenerys grasped her hand. “I think now, what’s best for Amara is to have you close by. I think it’s best for Amara and it is certainly best for me.”

Had she heard that correctly? “Your Grace?” she questioned. 

Shaking her head, Daenerys reached up and pressed a single finger to her lips. She tried not to think about just how smooth Daenerys’s finger felt, but it was impossible to focus on anything else. “None of that. You know my name.”

She spoke against the finger that refused to leave her face. “Daenerys.”

“That’s right.” With violet eyes looking through her, the Queen leaned toward the killer. She stayed frozen, locked in place by invisible chains as her heart paused in her chest. She was unable to comprehend what was happening. 

The first kiss was like the others they shared, Daenerys’s lips against her cheek, but close enough to the edge of her mouth that she couldn’t help but wonder. The wonder grew when rather than return to her seat afterward, Daenerys kissed her again, and again, each time involving more of her lips. She turned her head to ask what was happening and Daenerys took advantage. She connected their lips directly and the assassin couldn’t refuse. She felt hands in her hair, as she gripped Daenerys’s hips tightly. There connected mouths moved as one, until Daenerys’s tongue traced her lower lip to ask for entry. 

When air was at a premium it was the surprised assassin and not the noble Lady who ended it first. Breathing heavily, she studied the Queen’s face. She looked contented, and so amazingly gorgeous. “What were you thinking?” she asked, trying to understand. 

With a sweet laugh she crawled toward her again. “I was thinking ‘this is even better than I imagined.’”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed and the Targaryen joined her. “That’s not really what I meant.”

“You kissed me back rather intently. Would I be wrong to assume you liked it as well?” 

She scoffed. “Are you serious? I doubt anyone who has ever kissed you has come to regret it.”

She savored the blush that colored the Dragon’s cheeks before she looked down at the package that remained unopened between them. “As I was saying, before I lost myself, Amara and I got you something.” 

“That’s unnecessary. You’ve already given me too much.”

“I’m royalty,” she reminded her. “I’ll give you as many gifts as I like.” 

With a roll of her eyes she ducked her head in an exaggerated bow. “As you wish, your Grace.”

Daenerys sat with her legs folded, pushing the wrapped present across the blanket in her direction. She picked it up and felt its weight. Slowly her fingers started on the twine. Once she got through the barrier, she was stunned silent. There in front of her was one of the most beautiful blades she’d ever seen. She pulled it from the scabbard and admired the edge, tracing it with her finger and feeling delight when she saw the single drop of blood she drew. “Daenerys, this is incredible.”

“I wanted you to have something, so you could remember us, and the only thing I was confident you’d actually like, and use was a weapon. There were so many to choose from. That was my favorite, but if I chose incorrectly…”

This time it was her finger against Daenerys’s lips. “Thank you so much, its perfect.” Emboldened by the fact that Daenerys had kissed her more than once, she decided to try it. She lowered her hand and replaced it with her mouth. The kiss started slow but grew more and more heated with every racing heartbeat. It took only a slight nudge to topple the sitting Daenerys onto her back and she followed, keeping their mouths locked together. The moan she heard coming from under her was her undoing. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It was so much better than her flawed fantasies. 

They stayed like that until Amara’s arrival forced them apart. “Mama!” she shouted. 

Missandei was quick to apologize as the kissing women each worked to look innocent. “I’m so sorry your Grace.” 

“It’s alright Missandei,” she assured her, before she winked. “I plan on having lots of opportunities to make up for the lost time.” 

She blushed as she realized just how many people had seen her making out with the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Lucky for her, Amara was the star of the show and she kept attention safely away from her. 

For the remainder of the afternoon, she helped Amara open presents. She was thrilled to receive first handmade Dothraki leathers in her size from her Aunt Missandei. Daenerys’s gift to her daughter was an incredible silver necklace. It bared the three headed dragon of their house and was dotted with jewels for each eye. Holding the lion figure Amara begged her mother to let her try her new gifts. It took a few minutes with Missandei behind the tree but when she stepped out she looked like a miniature Khaleesi, with her new necklace, completing the outfit. 

“Come,” Daenerys said as she waved her daughter over. “Show Arya your necklace.”

She held it out, away from her body proudly. Larger hands took hold of it gently, admiring the stones and the elaborate detail in the dragon. 

“Turn it over,” Daenerys instructed. 

Sparing her a quick glance out of the corner of her eye she flipped the pendant and found words written in a flowing script. It took a moment to understand the combination of letters she saw. It said – Always a Wolf, Forever a Dragon – Amara Targaryen

She let the pendant go, sending it swinging back to its resting place against Amara’s chest. “You didn’t need to do that. I told you, I’m at peace with my choices.”

“Maybe that’s why I had to do it. You gave me so much and you act as though it is no big deal.” 

The final present was one she didn’t expect Amara to receive. It was a toy sword, carved of wood and small enough to suit her. As soon as it was in her hand she took off into the grass, away from the blanket, waving her sword, already in an epic imaginary battle. The assassin didn’t know what to think or how to feel. She’d made her feelings on the subject known and Daenerys had gone out and gotten her a sword anyway. She knew the irritation she felt was unfair. Daenerys was her mother. Daenerys was the one who had to make the decisions, good and bad. She’s the one who cared for, loved and taught her, each and every day. Without question she deserved the benefit of the doubt, even on a subject as volatile as this. 

Getting up off the blanket she stretched her tight back muscles. If Daenerys wanted Amara to play with swords, the least she could do was ensure she was well trained. She walked over and prepared to give the Little Dragon her first lesson in swordplay. 

When it couldn’t be delayed anymore they packed up their things and headed back to the keep. As she hooked her new dagger to her belt she felt it necessary to thank Daenerys again. After all, it had been a very long time since she’d been given a gift, especially one as meaningful as this. “Thank you so much Daenerys. You really shouldn’t have.”

“I should have,” she countered, stopping as she passed for a quick kiss. “Amara helped me pick it out. I think she’s got good taste.”

She smiled. “She’s got great taste.” When Amara was close enough she scooped her up and after a little tickling she lifted her onto her shoulders. “Did you help mama pick out my present?” When Amara nodded she could feel it in her shoulders. “Thank you. I love my present very much. I could tell you must have picked it.”

On the walk it occurred to her how strange they must look. The Unsullied guards, the former slave, two dragons and a stray wolf, one weird little family. 

R-C

That night after Amara was in bed, she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She asked to see Daenerys and was told to meet the Queen in her chambers. When she got there Daenerys was already waiting and the wine was poured. She took her seat and immediately told her ruler what she’d learned in Kayce. 

“Do you have any idea who he was talking about?”

“I don’t, but I have a feeling the House of Black and White might know.”

“How would they?” she asked, taking a sip of her wine. “They are thousands of miles away.”

“The temple employs a small army of vagrants, homeless, thieves, cut purses, beggars, anyone and everyone who might overhear important information. The House pays for that information, to keep itself at the forefront of news, on both sides of the sea. If anyone outside of Kayce knows who is coming, it’ll be the Faceless Men.”

“And you think he’s already arrived?” she inquired, with an edge to her voice. 

“If not yet, soon, very soon according to Marino.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Double the guards around you, Amara and Missandei at all times. Stay close to the keep and don’t allow strangers to get within ten feet of you. I’ll be back as soon as I can with information.”

“You’re returning to Braavos?” 

“Hopefully, but I need a favor.” 

Daenerys leaned close and took her hand. “Anything, just name it.”

This was it, the moment of truth. She swallowed the lump in her throat and prepared to make the most unrealistic of requests. As mad as it was, she knew it was the only way. Her entire plan hinged upon it. “I need you to teach me to ride a dragon.”

“Excuse me!?” Daenerys erupted, popping up out of her chair and dropping her hand. 

She too stood. “I need to speak with Braavos and I don’t have time to send ravens and then wait for a reply and I definitely don’t have time to hire a boat. I need to keep you and Amara safe, and this is the best way to do that.” 

Daenerys kept her back to the other woman. She didn’t speak for a long time. When she did, it was only after a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure if it’ll work, but we can try. I’ll introduce you to them first thing in the morning.” Pleased with the answer she smiled. She was so focused on her plot that she almost didn’t hear the next comment. “Now get over here, I still owe you a few kisses.”

Her smile grew. Yes, tonight was going absolutely perfectly. 

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Alright folks, we’re getting to the good stuff now. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, even if it lacked action or drama. I felt our happily little family deserved some peace before everything went sideways. 
> 
> As always thank you for your comments, and thank you for reading. 
> 
> Russell Craig.


	11. Chapter 11

Upon taking the Iron Throne Daenerys commissioned a special place for her dragons. Although she knew they were untameable animals at heart, who would come and go at will or on a whim, she still wanted them to have a place in King’s Landing to call their own. And why not, everyone else did?

All of the city had been repaired from Arya’s assault by the time she flattened a handful of unnecessary buildings. Hidden behind the keep and largely away from prying eyes, the spot got plenty of sun and was large enough to accommodate all three beasts at once. It took far longer, but she’d also ordered one of the openings into the underground caves beneath the Red Keep be widened on behalf of her dragons. Now it was not uncommon for Daenerys to find one of them flying overhead in search of dinner, while one enjoyed the summer sun, and the last slept in the shade. 

Wearing only a silken robe tied around her waist to keep her nakedness hidden she approached, while a large part of her questioned her sanity. No matter how badly she willed it, she couldn’t imagine any of her winged children ever allowing Arya or anyone else onto their backs. She hadn’t slept for very long the night before. Each time she tried she was tortured with painful images of Arya being thrown from a dragon’s back, only to be caught an instant later between strong jaws. 

Daenerys hadn’t been this frightened when she climbed aboard Drogo that first time. That day, scared as she was, she knew she had far less to lose. Now, she thought of Amara and more specifically Arya. If the woman she was growing to love was killed by one of her dragons, she wasn’t certain she’d ever be able to recover. 

It was with this in mind that she approached the dragons clutching a torch in hand. She still had plenty of time before her sunrise appointment. One by one she studied the majestic creatures. First, as always she sought out Drogon. He was awake, but grounded, watching her as his razor sharp claws scratched at the ground. 

While she never claimed to understand the witch’s magic, she did know it was her husband and her son, along with that scheming bitch that brought her dragons to life. Maybe it was nothing more than wishful thinking, but Daenerys always liked to believe that Drogo’s soul was passed to Drogon while he burned. If that was true, she knew he’d never allow anyone but Daenerys to ride him. No matter how noble Arya’s motives. 

With slow steps she approached Viserion. Like the sibling he was named after, this dragon was both temperamental and wild. Missandei called him ‘a free spirit’ but Daenerys knew different. She knew he was channeling his namesake and that terrified her like few things could anymore. If Arya attempted to ride on his back she’d be just as likely to be thrown into the sea than permitted to cross it. So petty and so like Viserys.

With two eliminated that only left Rhaegal, who was named after the brother she never knew. Since coming to King’s Landing she learned more about the man than she ever dared to hope for. Despite their father, he was said to be a kind prince to his people, a top-notch swordsman and someone willing to do what was necessary, against all odds if he truly believed it was right. Daenerys could only throw herself upon the mercy of the Gods, hoping she’d end up more like Rhaegar and less like the Mad King who sired them. 

Over the past several years, in her private moments Daenerys had begun investigating Robert’s Rebellion. She knew the facts, but wanted more details on the war that meant virtual extinction for all Targaryens. Book by book, page by page she found nothing unexpected until she was invited to meet with the Grand Maester, late one night.

In his chambers she found a man clinging to life only barely. He was lying on a bed that appeared too large for him and all around dusty, untouched books were stacked high. The robe he was wearing which had once fit him was no much too big, leaving him drowning in the fabric. His skin was cracked, lined with sores and not even breathing occurred without effort. She thought she’d been called to him, to console him and reassure him, out of this life and into the next, but the Maester wasn’t in need of comfort. 

“Rest,” she whispered as she took the available chair next to the bed. “No more harm will come to you now. I’ll see to it.” 

“V…v..” As he tried to speak to speak he was overcome with a series of frantic coughs that shook his fragile body from end to end. 

After Daenerys and a servant helped him sip from a glass of water, he had much more success speaking. “Very kin... kind, but that is not why I asked you here.” His last two words were separated by another coughing fit. With the aid of the servants she helped him sit up. After he cleared his lungs he sank back into the pillows. “My death comes tonight, your Grace. Before I go and face the Gods there is something I want you to know about your brother Rhaegar.”

“You knew my brother?”

“I was there the day he came into the world, and I wasn’t far away on the day that he left it.” With a cough he tired to push on, but Daenerys made him wait, insisting he drink more water. “This house has a library filled with books on the subject of Robert’s Rebellion, books I understand you’ve been reading, but you’d be better off burning them. They don’t tell the real story.”

She didn’t think there was anyone in the Seven Kingdoms who wasn’t aware of what started the decline of her family. Her brother kidnapped Lyanna Stark away from Robert and in the process, set in motion a war that would be their undoing. Ned Stark rushed to his best friend’s side, sword in hand, to attempt to save his sister. She’d heard the tale plenty, and never with any variation. 

“What do you mean?” she heard herself press. 

“History is wr… written by the victors. But I was there and I can tell you Rhaegar didn’t kidnap that girl. She loved him.”

“Love?”

He sat up a little bit higher, propped up on a boney elbow. “Aye, your Grace. A love stronger than any I’d ever seen. Your brother intended to leave his wife to be with Lyanna.”

“Which is why Robert led an army to get her back?” she guessed. 

After coughing into his skeletal fingers he gave her a feeble nod. “Robert was to wed Lyanna, the date had been set. He was furious and his pride wounded, two things Robert Baratheon never handled well.” 

Taking one of the man’s hand’s carefully she guided it to her lips and kissed it softly. “Thank you Maester. This means more than you could ever know.” 

When she stood to leave, she stopped next to the servant who was leading his care. “Ensure he gets whatever he needs to stay comfortable for the remainder of his time.”

R-C

After her encounter with the Grand Maester she’d spoken privately with Tyrion and although he had no direct knowledge, he couldn’t deny that boldly whispered rumors had been making their way across Westeros for years, ones that echoed the deathbed claim. 

As Daenerys slipped into the cave in search of Rhaegal, she thought of the strange embrace they were all caught up in. Her brother and Arya’s aunt loved one another, before all the death? It seemed almost impossible to believe, but now she willed it to be accurate. If she were going to place Arya in danger by letting her ride a dragon, then maybe Rhaegar’s feelings for her Aunt might be enough to ensure the woman Daenerys adored returned unharmed. 

She found the third dragon in the recesses of the cave and rather than wake him prematurely she sat down on the ground next to him and just waited. When she began to speak aloud, she couldn’t say who she was talking to exactly, or what she was trying to accomplish, but she knew if she didn’t try, she’d likely come to regret it later. 

“I see so much of Drogo in Drogon,” she said in introduction. “He’s brave, and he’s strong, and so entirely fearless. Every time we fly together I know I’ll be safe because I know Drogo would never allow any harm to come to me.”

“Viserion,” she continued with a bitter laugh, “is in many ways Viserys. He’s the loudest of you three by far, sticks to the back when it comes to battle and preens like a peacock.” 

She placed her hand on the side of his scaled jaw. “You were named after my honorable, valiant brother. I know now that he died defending the woman he loved, attempting to protect her from a future she didn’t want. Her name was Lyanna Stark. I can understand his dilemma, because like him my castle holds Starks who others might feel don’t belong and yet I could never turn them away. Arya is Lyanna’s niece and Amara, her daughter is now and will always be a Targaryen. I wish I could speak to my brother now, to tell him that even though it didn’t happen the way he thought it would, the outcome is the same. The Starks and the Targaryens will be bound forever. Nothing and no one could separate us again. 

Having reached the end of her monologue she stood. Rhaegal was the safest bet for Arya to ride. It was far from guaranteed but it was the least bad option. Looking indulgently at the creature she set her hand upon him again. “Keep her safe for me, please. I don’t think I could survive losing her.” 

Up until that moment she assumed she’d been talking to herself. Suddenly his eyes popped open and he stared at her as if her presence was expected. Was it her imagination or did she see a flicker of understanding in those bright eyes? Only one way to find out she surmised. She headed toward the mouth of the cave, without a word or a gesture and still Rhaegal remained on her heels the whole way. 

When she was once again in the yard she saw Missandei, holding a sleepy Amara. Jorah, Grey Worm and whole mess of Unsullied and Dothraki were also there. Word had spread that someone other than the Targaryen Queen intended to fly a dragon and now many wanted to witness with morbid curiosity. In addition, she noticed a formation of others who were designed to keep Amara and the other civilians safe if the test was less than successful. 

Arya walked up to Daenerys, dressed in trousers and a faded brown shirt that had seen better days. “What were you doing in there?” she asked, as she tried to keep her eyes off the beast. 

“Rhaegal and I were just having a little talk about how upset I’d be if she ever let anything happened to you.” The limited humor slipped from her tone. “Are you sure you want to do this? We can find another way.”

She lifted a hand and placed it on Daenerys’s burning cheek. “I’m no coward Daenerys. I’ve been ready to die for a long time. In the Temple they teach us that dying is easy, but to find something worthy of dying for, that’s the challenge.” Her thumb traced imaginary pictures along Daenerys’s cheekbone. “We’re taught to believe that its through service to the Many Faced God that humble Faceless Men find something worthy of dying for.”

“Do you believe that?” she asked in a whisper. 

“Maybe once I did, but today I believe in more. For years it was the House and their teachings that kept me alive. They taught me to harness my hate and hone my craft. At one point in my life, that had been enough, but things changed.” Looking over Daenerys’s shoulder she waved to their girl. “After Amara, I knew I wasn’t theirs anymore, or at least not completely.” Ducking her head, she kissed Daenerys in the center of the forehead. “Now, thanks to you even less of me belongs to them. They can have my soul, just as I vowed when they marked me, but the rest, the rest belongs to you and Amara.”

Daenerys’s vision was blurred by the tears she couldn’t get a handle on. That had to be one of the most strangely flattering things she’d ever heard. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she said as she swiped under her eyes. 

“Neither do I,” she agreed. “After so many years of nothing, I now have so much more. I don’t want to throw that away, or waste it, but danger is coming Daenerys, I can feel it in my bones and its coming for all of us. I will do whatever I can to prevent that, even if it means endangering myself.”

With no fresh tears on her face Daenerys squared her shoulders and straightened her back. She could do this. She was a Queen. She was a Targaryen and this was to protect Amara. She couldn’t imagine a finer cause. “Let’s begin then. Arya Stark, this is Rhaegal.”

R-C

She was wary but determined as she took her first step toward the humungous lizard. Although she’d been told the dragons never harmed their mother, she couldn’t resist angling her body protectively around the smaller woman. If Daenerys noticed, she didn’t comment. 

She expected a challenge for dominance when she was close enough but rather than lift up to a more intimidating figure Rhaegal remained flat on his belly. She spared a glance to Daenerys, who only smiled in response. Once she was close enough, she felt the coarse scales of the beast’s neck and still even the Northerner’s cool touch couldn’t illicit a response. The one big eye she could see from her position never left her, following every shift and every step in turn, but beyond that it was as if Rhaegal was pinned under a great weight none of the others could see. 

“What does this mean?” she asked. 

Daenerys took a few hurried steps forward. “I think he likes you.”

“Did you do this for me?”

She shrugged innocently. “Like I said, Rhaegal and I were just having a little talk about things. I think we came to an understanding.” 

With a bag of her belongings slung over her shoulder and a sword hanging from her hip she prepared to climb aboard a dragon for the first time. Just as she was about to begin her climb upward a firm grip on her bicep held her down. The heat that had her blood all but bubbling in her veins left little question about who’s hand it was. 

Aware Daenerys didn’t particularly like this strategy, she readied herself for anger or even disappointment, but instead she saw the most beautiful woman smiling back at her as if they didn’t have a care in the world between them. “Don’t die. I know why you’re doing this, and I understand but Amara and I need you here too so don’t you dare die on us Arya Stark.”

“Valar…”

Lips and a very energetic tongue pushed what she intended to say right back into her mouth. When the kiss was over Daenerys shook her head. “Yes, yes, I know, all men must die but that prayer of yours doesn’t say anything about when, does it?”

A wry smirk settled on her lips. “It does not.”

“Very good, then as Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen I herby forbid you from dying today or any other day for that matter until I deem it satisfactory. Do I make myself abundantly clear?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“Good. Climb on Rhaegal and get comfortable. When you’re ready, tap him on the neck three times, in between the scales and he’ll take you up.” 

She suspected it wouldn’t be quite so simple. Maybe it was for a Targaryen born to conquer the skies, but her people were of the North, and their most loyal animals remained much, much closer to the ground. 

R-C

As she soared higher and higher she wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake. At such a great height she couldn’t hope to survive if she was thrown. The only mercy she could hope for, if that happened would to be dead long before she hit the unforgiving ground below.

For the first few minutes she allowed the dragon to go where he pleased and then subtly began trying to shift him in one direction or the other. To her supreme surprise the creature obeyed. With the slightest pressure he’d turn and continue turning until she straightened him out. It was perfect. Once she had the basics in hand, she urged the beast faster, propelling them to the Titan City. 

R-C

With every nerve in her body alive with excitement, terror and exhilaration she left Rhaegal to go find a meal while she went to whet her appetite on information. 

Inside, conversations halted abruptly while she walked past as though she hadn’t noticed. This wasn’t uncommon for her. It had begun after she returned from giving birth to Amara. Through casual comments and snide remarks, she deciphered that the Faceless Men believed the Kindly Man had chosen his successor. While none said it outright, hints were made that it was her, the No One who had been Arya Stark. Personally, she gave the rumors no mind. If anyone had asked her she’d have explained as confidently as she could that while the Kindly Man might appear to be aging, he was still as spry and deadly as he ever was. She couldn’t say for certain, but she suspected he’d still be the Head of the Order, long after they were all dead and replaced. 

“Valar Dohaeris, how is your homeland?”

“Still as despicable as I remember.”

“You don’t approve of the changes the Targaryen makes in Westeros?” he clarified. 

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “She’s one woman, and nothing more. No matter how pure her intentions, those in her court scheme and backstab one another daily, other nobles vie for a bigger role in the ‘Great Game’. I fear nothing will ever change that.”

“True words. Rumors have begun to reach us here in Braavos. Since you were so recently there, will you come and speak with me?” He held out a wrinkled hand and she took his arm like the proper lady her mother always wanted her to be. “We can speak comfortably in my office.”

She tensed for only a fraction of an instant. In all the years she’d made her home in the Temple she’d never heard of him having an office and she doubted that even if he did, that he’d ever permit one of his Faceless to see it. Darting eyes took note of two guards walking on their left, two more on the right and another bringing up the rear. 

While her instincts demanded she leave and quickly, she knew she couldn’t go without first trying to learn the information she’d come for. If he wouldn’t speak to her until they arrived at his office, then she’d wait. Come what may. 

The door to the office was barred closed and thick. Two men stationed there opened it as the Kindly Man approached. As she crossed the threshold she closed her eyes and thought of Daenerys and Amara. “I love you both,” she whispered. 

If this was an office, it was unlike one she’d ever seen before. There were no books, no desk, no shelves, just two weapon racks on the rear wall while the rest of the room remained open. When she looked down she saw a metal grate lying across the center of the floor. Upon closer inspection, she could see the stones beneath the grate were farther apart than the rest, intentionally so. The room was also subtly sloped down toward the center. There was only one purpose she knew to construct a room in such a way. 

“Did you say something?” he asked from deeper in the room. The door closed as soon as she was through it and she listened to the sounds of it being secured again. None of the people who had shadowed her to the office joined her inside, but that didn’t mean they were alone. She could feel them there, like the edges of a dream, barely existing until they were called forward to serve. 

“I was just going to ask if you’d heard news of Kayce. When I gave Marino the Gift, he told me of a visitor arriving who intended to purchase Lord Kenning an army.”

He gave her a grandfatherly smile, that she didn’t for a moment believe. “I knew you could do it. You’ve come a long way. You’re one of our finest achievements.” There was a pause before he continued on, “Oh and yes, we know all about that. In fact, we aided in arranging transportation for Lord Kenning’s guest.”

“Who is it? Who is bringing chests of gold across the sea for Kenning and why?” 

The man laughed, as though he had just heard the funniest of all jokes. He gripped his belly through his two-toned robe. “You still don’t see it, do you?” he asked rhetorically. “Viserys Targaryen feels he has waited long enough to claim his birthright.”

She hadn’t given much thought as to what she might hear, but even if she had, she never would have guessed correct. “Viserys Targaryen, Daenerys’s brother, is he not dead?”

The man folded his hands in front of him while remaining perfectly erect. “For many years we believed he’d perished after he fled the Dothraki horde but then nearly two years ago now, one of our number happened upon him in Lys. He’d squandered his money, had no allies and was begging or stealing nightly to eat. He was sleeping on a straw mattress on the floor in a filthy room. Hardly proper conditions for royalty, wouldn’t you say?” 

She didn’t think about responding, because she knew he had far more to say, and rather than interrupt, she wanted to hear it, every last word. With her angry eyes she urged him on and he didn’t disappoint. “That Faceless Man returned him here and after seeing he was properly fed and cared for we struck a bargain.”

“The Faceless Men took an oath to protect Daenerys. Why would you break that oath now, for her brother of all people?” she asked with contempt spilling from every word. 

His amused expression grew more so. “I broke no oath. I swore we’d never take a contract on the life of Daenerys Stormborn and I have not. Her brother doesn’t wish to kill her, in fact he wants her to rule at his side.”

Swallowing down the bile that burned the back of her throat, she struggled not to picture it. It took all her control to keep her voice even. “I understand what the Targaryen gets, a throne, a chance to stick it to his sister, get some revenge, we can all understand that, but what about you? What is in this for you? What do you get from manipulating things so secretly? Or is that it, you want to play the puppet master?”

“You really are stupid,” he responded, showing the first crack to his friendly façade. “After all these years you still don’t see it. Only one thing motivates these types of people, coin and lots of it. Or did you think Cersei Lannister had another motive to want your family dead? She wanted to keep the crown close, and by extension, the royal treasury.

She scoffed, spitting on the floor between them. “You did all of this for coin and I’m stupid?”

He moved until he was standing directly in her spit. “Alright, it is time for your final lesson. Pay attention. Now before I begin, understand that I enjoy peace as much as the next man but there is no denying its not nearly as profitable.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a wrinkled hand and just as happened since she was a girl, her voice left her. “Wars lead to grudges, and grudges are valuable. Thousands of men fighting thousands more until they’re told to stop. Tell me, when else will normal men and women be angry enough to pay our obscene fees? How many people do you think came to attempt to hire us to kill Tywin Lannister or one of his kin after he arranged the murder of your brother, the Young Wolf? How many on the other side wished the Lannisters avenged after you killed them? War breeds generations of business for us, because as you can attest like no other, the hate never dies.” He laughed happily. “All those who wronged your family are dead, and still you can’t release it, you can’t let it go. It’s as much a part of you as your scarred face or your daughter.”

“Careful old man,” she warned. She swallowed hard as she worked not to show any weakness. From the day she learned she was pregnant she’d known it would be impossible to keep the truth hidden for long, but she had to try. What else was a parent to do? “You saved my life once,” she told him honestly. “Back when I was a girl, if you hadn’t agreed to train me I’d be long dead.”

He laughed at her assessment. “Yes, that girl was really rather pitiful.”

“Yes, she was, but I am not her any longer.” She drew her sword and saw the flicker of surprise before it was gone. “You saved that girl once so allow me to return the favor. Stop talking before you say something I can not forgive.” 

He clapped his hands together and then reached up to push the hood back off his face. “You were never leaving this room alive. The Many Faced God invites you home. Don’t struggle, it can be quick.” 

She gave him a grim smile. The last he’d see if she had her way. “Where is the fun in that? Will it be you then? Or are you planning on having one of the others do it, you know, the ones we’ve been pretending weren’t listening this whole time?” 

“Why not all at once!” he yelled, snapping his fingers as he called the nearby Faceless Men into action. 

With her sword already out, she was prepared. She took a lunging swipe at the neck of the Old Man and would have reached him too, if it were not for another intervening to save his life. In the center of the room she danced around her enemies, dodging strikes and attempting others. 

Five minutes into the madness, she was certain of two things; these men were skilled, perhaps even as skilled as her and if Viserys was truly Kenning’s visitor, then she needed to get back to Daenerys as soon as possible. 

R-C

Daenerys had Amara pinned under her, tickling her with both hands, up under her arms and down her squirming sides. Each roar of laughter was louder and more enthusiastic than the last. As she kept going Daenerys revelled in the sounds. She could listen to this forever. 

As always happened when she felt the least bit content fate interceded. Grey Worm and another Unsullied she couldn’t recognize through his helmet stood in the doorway, looking at her expectantly. “Apologies, your Grace,” Grey Worm said, while his partner knelt. “A man has arrived outside the keep and he demands to see you.”

She was immediately on notice. With Arya’s warnings repeating in her mind she answered without climbing off of Amara. “I am not seeing visitors today. Please get this man’s name and ask him to return tomorrow.”

“I… I would my Queen but…”

“But what!”

“He claims its urgent and he says he is your brother?”

The game forgotten she was up off the bed and standing in front of Grey Worm as quickly as she could manage. “My brother, are you certain?” 

He nodded first and then cleared his throat. “Said his name is Viserys.” 

Fear started in the pit of her stomach and spread out. “Is he alone?” Once Grey Worm confirmed he was Daenerys issued her orders. “Have him searched for weapons, before you let him inside. Tell him you’ll bring him to the throne room, but I want him taken to the dungeons instead. Throw him in the darkest cell and bind chains to all four of his limbs as well as to his neck.” 

“At once,” he said bringing his spear down on the hard floor. 

“Tell my brother I’ll be down to see him when I’m ready and not a second before.”

R-C

She’d managed to cull the herd, but it hadn’t come without a cost. Two of the three associates accompanying the Old Man were dead or dying, leaving only one more protector before she got to the real prize. But even as she congratulated herself on her successes, she knew she needed to hurry. Her left knee was swelling rapidly and would soon be too weak to be of any use. Likewise, she had a thick slash across the top of her left forearm, causing a river of rich blood to flow down into her fingers, making them sticky and giving off an earthy metallic scent. 

Holding the injured arm tight to her side, she took a wild swing at the last Faceless Man. She knew it would fail, but in doing so, she’d leave her entire right side open to him. Since he’d undergone the same training she had, she knew this would be something impossible for him to overlook. Holding a short, bloody dagger in each hand he read her movements and grinned as he dropped down to a knee. With a wide arc he swung at the unprotected space and she didn’t even try to move. As she winced in pain she let her sword to fall from her grip and just as she’d hoped this lulled him into believing he’d won. 

Wobbling in a manner that was only slightly exaggerated she leaned into her enemy to keep from falling. While he attempted to push her off, she was reaching for the dagger under her clothes. A gift from Daenerys and Amara, and exactly the right tool to get her back to them. Too weak to support herself one moment, and then full of deadly purpose the next. She grasped the back of his head firmly and kicked him with her swollen leg to keep him from trying to stand. Recognition came to him just a instant before the dagger’s tip pierced his eye. With a grunt of effort, she buried it to the hilt. 

The sound of clapping reminded her the battle wasn’t done. “Those were some of my best and you killed them all, at the same time, three against one. Bravo.”

Bending down she retrieved her sword and used it as a cane to help reinforce her injured leg. “Four against one,” she corrected, holding out a bloody finger to him, and the cut he now wore above his right eye. It wasn’t much, but she’d managed to get close enough to strike him with an unexpected elbow. The look on his face before she had to roll away was priceless. It gave her some small amount of comfort to know that the bastard bled as she did. 

“Yes, well you’ve made your point. Now what do you want?”

“Want?” she growled, rubbing her aching jaw and spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “I wanted to come here and ask questions, but you wanted to kill me.” She held her arms out wide in both directions. “This was never about what I wanted.”

The Kindly illusion was gone. The hate between them was palpable and neither tried to pretend otherwise. “Did you really think you could keep your secret? That you could have a child and we would never notice?”

As she passed the dead body of a man who’d bitten her to try and save his life, she kicked him again, for principle’s sake. “Maybe, maybe not,” she said as she looked down at the dead. “Or maybe I just didn’t think that it was any of your fucking business.”

“Everything is our business,” he screamed, forcing her eyes up. “We see all, we hear all! We guide dynasties with an invisible hand, not like those putrid cunts over at the Iron Bank, but really. It is us who hold domain over life and death. Us and no other.”

As she limped toward him his anger faded and again he smiled that fake smile of his. “Do you really think you can kill me in your current state? Kneel and ask forgiveness and maybe I’ll be merciful.”

Kneel before him. That wouldn’t happen, she was certain, but before she could evaluate her options further the temple shook, causing both she and the Old Man to fall on opposite sides of the room. 

“What the hells?”

She knew what it was and she whistled loudly, hoping he’d hear her. The room had no windows and only one door but that didn’t matter. Before the Old Man was back on his feet Rhaegal was using brute force to push his head through the side of the building, announcing his presence in dramatic fashion. 

“A dragon?!” he muttered in disbelief as he struggled to rise. 

She couldn’t let the opportunity to ridicule him pass unused. “You know, for a man so smart, maybe you should have asked yourself how I crossed the sea so quickly.”

While he watched she climbed aboard Rhaegal. “Go then!” he screamed with a wild wave of his typically fluid arm. “Go, but know this, should you ever set foot in the Temple again, I’ll kill you myself, you and your daughter!”

The rage she felt filled her with a cold calm. Her wounds were unimportant as she sat on the dragon’s back. “If I ever set foot in this Temple again, you won’t have a choice!”

As she talked, attempting to coax Rhaegal to fly, she was aware of the Old Man staggering to one of the racks of weapons. Not wanting to see what he had in mind, she pulled the reigns hard. She heard the first arrows hitting the dragon’s scales and bouncing away harmlessly but just as Rhaegal began to gain some height, she was struck by a razor tipped arrow slicing through the muscle of her back. She collapsed forward into the dragon’s thick neck. She patted it gently with the last reserves of her energy. “Home,” she whispered as blood oozed from the corner of her mouth. “Home.”

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: So there you have it. I know Viserys wasn’t a real big surprise for most of you, but he was simply too good a villain to pass up on. I do hope that the House of Black and White’ s involvement was less predictable, without being unrealistic. 
> 
> A few more chapters to go. I like the little family so much I almost feel guilty for what I’m about to put them through… but enough about that. For those of you playing along at home, you now know who sent letters to Kenning telling him Daenerys was stubborn and who Claudia was sending the ravens to in Chapter Eight.
> 
> Thank you all for caring enough to read and comment. I hope you aren’t disappointed. 
> 
> RC


	12. Chapter 12

“Sister,” Viserys said warmly as he knelt in chains on the cold, damp, dungeon floor. She approached slowly, attempting to appear disinterested while she was comparing the man before her to the one of her memories. He was undoubtedly older, he had a wider face, thinner hair, although the color and way he styled it remained unchanged. Under his eye she noticed a scar that her lips twitching. Years ago he’d struck her, and she returned the favor, wielding a heavy gold belt. She was pleased he had a permanent reminder of her defiance during their absence. 

The Unsullied had removed his clothes and he waited there as though he didn’t have a care. His shrewd eyes took in every face in turn, saving hers for last. “Sister,” he said again, “lovely to see you. The years have been kind to you, you’re even more gorgeous than I remember…”

Swallowing her fear, she reminded herself that he couldn’t hurt her. Her family was safe, Amara was upstairs with Missandei, and Grey Worm and Arya was in Braavos. Even if Kenning used Viserys’s funds to finance a war, they could fight and they would win. 

“You on the other hand look just as small and petty as I remember you.” 

The chains rattled as for the first time he tried to stand. She took half a step back and leaned in Jorah’s general direction. “Lovely place you’ve got here little sister. Stealing from your brother, you must be so proud.” 

“I’m glad you like it,” Jorah said speaking for her. “It’ll likely be the last place you ever see.”

Viserys let out a bitter laugh. “Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island, aren’t you dead yet?” When no one responded to his jab he tried again, “Please tell me that after all these years you at least wormed your way into my sister’s bed at least once. I mean I know I wasn’t kept up to date, but as far as I can tell if you’re still waiting, you’d likely be the only one in the castle. Present company excluded of course.”

She grasped his arm to keep him from reaching for the door. That was entirely the reaction her brother wanted. She felt regret as she saw the poorly concealed pain on the knight’s face. Even though she didn’t share his feelings, she didn’t want him humiliated because of them. Her patience was growing thin. She’d wasted enough time being afraid of him. She was the one who was in control now. It was Viserys’s turn to be afraid now. “Tomorrow morning at sunrise you’ll be pushed from a particularly high window in the keep and out into a courtyard below,” Daenerys explained. “You’ll likely break a few bones, but the fall won’t kill you. It will however make it difficult for you to try and flee before the dragons come by for their breakfast.” 

He tried to continue his act of being perfectly at ease, but she saw it there, on his aged face, the moment of terror as he considered her words. He recovered and it was gone, but for her it would live forever. She would remember that sight until her final day. “Wow, Daenerys, listen to you. I never would have thought you had it in you. Good for you.” The chains rattled again as he attempted to move. “I’m proud of you.” 

“I don’t care how you feel! You murdered my husband, a man I loved. You haven’t mattered to me in a long time and you don’t matter to me now. I’ll see you in the morning Viserys.” 

With a wave she motioned her associates up the narrow staircase. Sensing that his time with her was over, the rattling chains grew louder to match his voice. “You can’t still be mad about. I was doing you a favor. We aren’t done Daenerys!” he shouted. “We are just beginning.” 

R-C

That night as Daenerys tucked Amara into bed, her intelligent girl asked a question she should have been expecting. “Mama hav’a brota?”

Rumors travelled with the speed of wildfire she knew, but she’d hoped this one might skip over Amara completely. It was a naïve wish, but she was allowed to hope. Closing her eyes, she lied down next to Amara on the bed and snuggled in. “Yes sweetheart, your mama has a brother, but a very long time ago he did something that hurt mama very badly.”

“What?” Amara asked immediately.

Behind closed lids Daenerys rolled her eyes. She walked right into that one. “I’ll explain when you’re older,” she promised. She knew she couldn’t hide the truth, not about this, too many people already knew it. After tomorrow, when Viserys was dead at her hand, she knew she’d one day have to sit Amara down and explain it to her in a way she could understand. She only hoped she didn’t come to regret her sudden lack of compassion. 

She opened her eyes when Amara nudged her arm with both hands. “He not hurt mama?” her tone was so sad, so unlike her, it brought tears to the back of Daenerys’s eyes. 

Forgetting about the fact that she had just tucked her in she pulled her daughter free from the blanket and laid her down against her chest. “No baby, I promise. No one is ever going to hurt your mama ever again. You don’t need to worry about that. I have Uncle Jorah and Uncle Grey Worm to keep me safe.” 

“Good,” she chirped before she slipped off her mother and down onto the floor. 

She ran straight to her toy chest and grabbed the lid. “Hey,” Daenerys complained half-heartedly. “Get back here missy, it’s time for bed, not toys.” 

When she turned Amara held her wooden sword in one hand and carried it back to the bed, resting it on the blanket beside her mama. “I help too.”

Rather than trying to figure out how to explain a very adult concept to a child, Daenerys relented. She decided to just be appreciative of the offer and she was. Her girl really was selfless. “Thank you baby, but you need to sleep now okay.” For the second time Daenerys tucked her in under the blankets. 

“Goodnight mama, love you.”

Blowing out the candle she swung her legs back up onto the bed. She had no plans to be anywhere else tonight. “I love you too Amara. Sleep tight.” 

R-C

By the time she arrived the next morning her brother was already there. Surrounded by nearly two dozen Dothraki and Unsullied, he was dressed in rags from the dungeons and he still wore the chains. He was bleeding from several fresh cuts and she could only assume some of her friends and commanders paid him a visit through the night. Childishly she hoped his injuries hurt. 

When he noticed her, he smiled, a gesture that didn’t look nearly as handsome now as she once thought it had. “Do you love your people Daenerys?” he asked. 

“We’re ready Khaleesi,” Jorah announced. “Would you like to do the honors?” 

Just like the night before she got to revel in a brief look of terror as the words sank in. “Wait!” he commanded, struggling against the knight. “Are you really going to kill me sister? Have you stopped to consider how many other lives your actions will take?”

“Only one, yours,” she answered, nodding to Jorah to do it. 

Before he could, her fast-talking brother got to the point. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was dangling half out a ten story window. “I didn’t come here alone. Thanks to Lord Kenning, who I believe you know, I have men loyal to me and they are hidden all over King’s Landing as we speak. If any harm comes to me, they have instructions to begin killing at random, women and children first.”

Daenerys was appalled. She instructed Jorah to wait, but he’d already pulled Viserys back inside. As much as she wanted to discredit his claims as the cries of a dying man, she knew this man intimately and she knew that paying sell-swords to kill women and children if he didn’t get his way was exactly the type of scheme her brother would devise. 

“What do you want?”

Feeling emboldened he rose to his feet. “I want what is mine. What’s been mine since before you were born. I want the throne that was stolen from me and I want everything you’ve been enjoying in my place for all these years.”

“You’re insane,” Jorah snapped. 

Viserys turned his hard stare on the knight. “Only one of us here was born to be a king and it wasn’t you.”

“What about Rhaegar? Do you just pretend he didn’t exist?” Jorah challenged. “You weren’t born to be a king any more than I was, the difference is I know it.” 

“Enough!” Daenerys shouted, upset by the bickering. “Grey Worm, take our guest back to his cell. I need to think.”

As he was being led away he laughed. “Think quick little sister, if I’m not released by nightfall, your citizens are going to start dying.”

R-C

“You believe him?” Tyrion inquired, commencing the meeting of the small council just minutes after Viserys was returned to the dungeon. 

“I do,” she confirmed, “and you would too if you knew him. This is precisely the kind of strategy he knew would work. When I was a girl he used to bring me pets, a cat once, a bird, a rodent even and each time after I’d come to care for it, and love it, he would steal it and threaten to harm it, if I didn’t do exactly as he wished.” 

“Seven Hells, and I thought my sister was a bitch.”

“As much as I wish him dead, I can’t trade his life for that of hundreds of the smallfolk. What kind of queen would I be then?” She attempted to pour herself a drink but stopped when the jug rattled far too much for her liking. “Do we have any idea how many of his men are inside the walls?”

“We’re not certain Khaleesi, but Grey Worm and I have every available man out looking to see if they can find a pattern,” Jorah informed, taking the jug from Daenerys and pouring her wine. She thanked him with a sincere smile. 

 

From his seat, Tyrion raised a valid point. “We need to know how many men he brought with him. We can’t reach Kenning by nightfall, so how can we possibly learn details Viserys has no incentive to share?”

“He loves to talk,” Jorah said, with his hand on Daenerys’s shoulder. “For as long as I’ve known him, he’s loved to brag about how clever he is. If we give him the chance, he’ll reveal the details.”

Against her better judgement Daenerys agreed. “Fine, have him taken proper clothes and tell him I’ll meet him for lunch in the hall.”

Missandei’s voice was tender. “Your Grace, you told Amara you’d join her for lunch.”

With a wide backhand she knocked her untouched wine off the table and listened to the golden goblet clanging off the floor. What was she to do? She couldn’t very well have them all at the same table, that would only make things worse. She sighed and struggled to reign in her anger. “Apologize to Amara for me, but tell her that I’ll make it up to her soon. I don’t want Viserys to so much as look at her.”

R-C

“How did you get here?” she asked as their meals were laid out before them. The hall was empty except for a bare collection of staff. As she’d instructed Viserys was now wearing clothing befitting a man of his exaggerated self-worth. “It’s not easy to cross the Narrow Sea, believe me I know.”

Viserys gave her a wicked grin that turned her stomach. “Yes, well like you I have allies and I’m not talking about that fool in Kayce either.” With a bitter laugh he took a bite. “Can you believe that idiot actually thought I’d let him marry you once I was King?”

The tremor in her voice wasn’t for show. “W…what do you intend to do with me once you have the throne?” 

He reached out and touched her hand, but surprised by the heat he pulled away. “Sweet sister, you’ll reign at my side as it was always supposed to be, as it would have been if the Usurpers hadn’t stolen from us. You’ll be my Queen and I shall be your King.”

Talk drifted to their childhood and a handful of light memories between them. When lunch was nearly finished she asked the question this whole meal had been set up to pose. “How can I know you’re serious Viserys? How do I know you have anyone out there willing to do anything?”

He smiled. “Well I suppose you can continue to keep me here until nightfall and then see how many people are dead in the morning,” he suggested. 

“I don’t want my people to die,” she said hanging her head in her hands. “H… how many people … how many of my people will be killed if you aren’t released?”

He pretended to ponder the question. “Oh I don’t know Daenerys however many one thousand war-hardened sell-swords can kill before your eunuchs can cut them down.” 

While she pretended to sob into her hand, Daenerys felt her lips curling. She had gotten half the information she needed. She lowered her hands and then, just as she planned she got angry. “You murdered my husband. I only care for the people of King’s Landing, not beyond. I don’t care if your sell-swords murder two hundred people in the North, three hundred in the East and another fifty outside the gates. 

For the second time he touched her, this time without pulling back. “Oh sweet clueless Daenerys, you just aren’t capable of thinking like a man. It’d be of no benefit to kill your people so far away, where you couldn’t see their bodies, and hear their children wail. Every one of those sell-swords is inside the walls of King’s Landing right now, and if you don’t act quickly, people will die!”

She shrunk away like she hadn’t been prepared for this news. Right on time Missandei arrived to tell her about a non-existent problem that needed her attention. “I have to go,” she said weakly. “I’ll be back long before nightfall.” 

Although Missandei’s message didn’t mention Amara, her brother took one final opportunity to twist the knife. “Tell my niece I look forward to meeting her soon.”

R-C

In the midst of their second session of the day Daenerys passed along what she’d learned. “A thousand sell-swords are hidden in King’s Landing and if my brother is to be believed they have instructions to kill innocent women and children first.”

“So that rules out any of the outposts or anything near the barracks, but it makes both the orphanage and the Sept a possible target,” Tyrion said as they all gathered around a map. 

The sun was already beginning its decent. “Can we possible stop all thousand men in time?” Daenerys asked, sensing she already knew the answer. 

“Grey Worm and his men are already in the process of searching, but one thousand is a lot Khaleesi.”

“We have more!” she reminded him, feeling fury. “Put every soldier not guarding Amara out on the street. I don’t want anyone to die because my brother can’t handle disappointment.” 

Suddenly the door swung open and an Unsullied dropped to his knee in front of her. “Your Grace…”

Feeling irritation at the interruption she barked, “Yes, what is it!?”

“‘The Wolf, your Grace,” he said, without standing. 

Daenerys did not have time for this. She was trying to save thousands of her people from her brother’s petty wrath. “Nymeria? What of her?”

He shook his helmeted head. “N…no the human.” At once she pictured Arya and was immediately thrilled to have her back. That relief was short lived however when the Unsullied turned over his dark hands and showed her the fresh coat of blood that covered them. 

R-C

Lying face down in the grass next to the creature that carried her home, she prepared for death. Apparently the Many Faced God had rejected her request to leave the Order. How else could she explain an arrow hitting her from so far below. She’d never known an archer so skilled. 

Her weak hands rarely obeyed her commands, but she kept trying, hoping to stay alive long enough to see Amara and Daenerys one more time. Her prayers were answered when she heard Daenerys yelling her name. She did her best to raise her head and found Daenerys looking down at her with tears in her violet eyes. “What happ…” she was trying to ask, but she wasn’t the least bit interested in that. Upon noticing the arrow in her back Daenerys looked to the Unsullied. “Why hasn’t anyone taken it out yet?”

Quick to oblige his Queen a hand reached out, until Arya’s knocked it away. She didn’t care about any of this. She just needed to warn Daenerys. “Br…brother,” she said, hating how weak her voice sounded. She cleared her throat and pushed up onto her forearm, making it easier to breathe and speak while multiplying the pain she felt. “Your brother is coming Daenerys.” As soon as her message was delivered she collapsed into the grass and was lost to a dream. 

In another world her family sat together in a hall that she recognized as Winterfell at once. Jon was there, Robb, Bran, Rickon, even their father and mother. They smiled at her and called her name as they waved her over. 

She tried to tell them, to show them that she couldn’t walk, but after a moment she looked down only to find her wounds gone. Eager to confirm the change, she rolled up her sleeve and found that not only had her most recent injuries vanished, but all of the others she sustained over the years, as well. 

Suddenly thrilled, she ran toward them, afraid to blink for fear they’d disappear. She waved and yelled to each member of her lost family. The tears started as she was introduced by Robb to his wife and son, and they continued in force as she hugged both Rickon and Bran. When she noticed Jon coming toward her with Needle in his hand, she sank to her kneels, bawling like a baby. 

This should have been the happiest she’d felt in ages and instead all there was, was regret. Regret for her mistakes, and regret that some of the people who mattered most weren’t with her. One by one she pictured Sansa, Daenerys and Amara and she knew she could never leave them, no matter how badly she wanted to stay. Overcome with emotions she didn’t know she was capable of anymore, time lost all meaning. Eventually her parents came and knelt on either side of her. She smelled the woodsy scent from her father’s furs and the aroma of cinnamon off her mother’s hands, as though she’d been baking. The way those two unique smells mixed in her nostrils only made her cry harder. “What’s wrong Little Wolf?” 

“I miss you all so much,” she confessed as she clung to the front of his shirt. “I love you and I’m sorry, I’m sorry for everything I did. Please don’t hate me!” she begged. 

“Arya,” her mother started. “We could never hate you. You’re our daughter and we love you too, but you don’t need to miss us, we’ll be with you always, no matter where you go.”

She avoided her parent’s faces as she spoke the words that were certain to break their hearts. “I have to go back.”

She felt her mother’s lips against her temple while her father chuckled deeply on her right. “Well, of course you do sweetheart. Daenerys and Amara are going to need you. Now more than ever.”

“Amara?” she repeated back as she hazarded a glance at her father. “You know about Amara?”

“Of course,” he assured her. “She’s priceless, you should be very proud.”

“I am,” she promised, smiling against her tears. 

Leaning back onto his heels he made a wide arc with his hand. “All of us, have been looking out for sweet little Amara since the day she was born,” he said. “She misses you, even now,” he said, resting his hand over his heart. To her delight, the image of her Amara’s face appeared there. 

“I miss her too.”

“Then go back to her,” Robb urged. “Daenerys is beside herself with worry and it won’t get better until you convince her you’re well.”

“Am I well?” she wondered as doubt began to creep in. “The arrow…”

“The Maester told Daenerys you’ll pull through if you can survive the night,” Jon told her from a few feet away. “It’s up to you now, to decide where you want to be.”

“M…me?”

“You can stay here with us, or you can go back to them, its your decision Arya.” This time it was Bran, who was walking as he once had, natural and without the slightest hitch in his step. 

Although he called it a decision, it really wasn’t, at least not much of one. She was certain that made her a horrible daughter and a vile sister, but she hoped that it made her a good mother. 

After a round of goodbyes and promises that they’d see each other again Arya prepared to go back to the land of the living. Her mother was the last to release her and before she did she pulled Arya in for one more hug. With her mouth hovering over her ear, she whispered, “Tell Daenerys to use Nymeria, she can find the thousand.”

She was about to ask what she meant, what thousand, but it was already too late, they were gone and she was alone again and in pain. 

R-C

Daenerys sat next to Arya’s bed, clutching her damp hand. The Maester had said if she survived the night, her chances were good, but that wasn’t enough. She wanted assurances, guarantees, promises, vows… she’d take anything. She thought of Drogo lying helpless on their bed and she looked at Arya, so different and so similar. She couldn’t go through this again. 

There was so much to do, so much she should be deciding, but how could she? How could she be anywhere right now except where she was? Her soldiers were out searching King’s Landing for Viserys sell-swords and they’d find some, or all of them soon, she just wasn’t sure it would be soon enough. Her brother’s deadline was fast approaching and she felt a sense of dread, like it wasn’t only the people outside the castle who had reason to fear if this wasn’t resolved by nightfall. 

So lost to her own thoughts, she didn’t notice the first time Arya’s hand twitched inside hers, and she certainly wasn’t prepared for when she bolted up off the mattress and screamed Daenerys’s name. 

After she got over the shock Daenerys called for the Maester while she tried to settle Arya back down onto the bed without inflaming her wounds. “Just rest, I won’t let anything else happen to you.”

No matter how soothing her voice Arya resisted her attempts. “No, no Daenerys. Daenerys listen…”

“Arya I’m right here. Just lie back please.” The seriousness of her lover’s face concerned her. Were things even more dire than she realized? When she noticed Arya’s lips moving she lowered her face closer in an attempt to better understand. Even as she focused on nothing else, Daenerys could hear little more than wet gurgling sounds. “What was that darling? Try and tell me again.”

Gasping for air between each word she finally got out a message Daenerys could understand. “They said, ‘tell Daenerys to use Nym,’ she said, ‘Nym could track the thousand.”

For long seconds the words didn’t fit together and then finally she understood. Jumping up with such force that she toppled her chair she screamed for Grey Worm and Ser Jorah. As she waited to relay the information she wondered why she hadn’t thought of that. It really did make perfect sense. 

“Yes, Khaleesi?”

“Take Nymeria to the dungeons to get my brother’s scent and then I want you to tell him I agree to his terms. I’m willing to release him, but only if he calls off his friends.”

“Khaleesi, you can’t mean that,” he implored, stepping toward her. “I don’t want those people to die any more than you do, but giving your throne to Viserys isn’t going to better anyone.”

“You’ll do as I command. Release him and tell him he can join me tomorrow at midday. If none of my people were killed over night, I’ll honor our deal. Escort him to the gates and make sure he’s outside them. Once he is, close them and lock them, that gate and any other that can be used to enter King’s Landing. This will trap his sell-swords inside while Viserys is kept out.”

“That won’t help if we don’t know who they are.”

“Once the gates are closed, let Nymeria run free, but stay close behind her If my brother and his friends were all in the same places recently, they should share similar scents. Nym should lead you right to them.”

Jorah looked impressed, which she tried not to take personally. “How can you be certain he won’t flee? You intended to kill him once, what’s to stop him from disappearing as soon as he’s outside the gate?”

“He’s too greedy,” she said with confidence. “He’s less than a day away from everything he’s ever wanted, and everything he feels richly entitled to. He won’t be going far.”

“We’ll need to make room in the dungeons if we are planning on capturing even a fraction of the sell-swords.”

She shook her head, looking at the beaten woman sleeping on the bed. “No captures, no mercy, no pardons. Tomorrow when my brother arrives I want to show him the heads of all one thousand of his sell-swords.”

R-C

It was a long bloody night for the men Daenerys sent to hunt the sell-swords. Once Viserys was outside the city, believing he was about to win, Jorah released Nymeria and she immediately took off running. Just as their Queen predicted she was able to pick the outliers from the crowd by scent and one by one they learned of Daenerys’s idea of justice, some in the form of an Unsullied spear and others by a Dothraki arakhs. 

Upon his arrival at the gate the next day the Unsullied bound Viserys in chains and dragged him to the dungeon. He struggling the whole way, resisting as he shouted first for Daenerys and then when it was clear she wasn’t coming, he tried to issue his command to his sell-swords. The guards responded by laughing, until the Dothraki helpfully drew his attention to the large pile of severed human heads that were stacked up along the wall. 

Jorah approached him from behind, clapping him firmly on the back. “You never did give her enough credit,” he said, sounding entirely smug. “Whether she’s a Khaleesi, a Queen or just Daenerys, she’s always been smarter than you.” 

Daenerys watched and listened from her balcony. Her arms crossed over her chest and she shivered as she heard her brother yell her name and threaten her guard. By the time his voice was beginning to fade, he’d moved on to attempting to bribe the guards with promises of riches. 

She could have gone down to the dungeon to hear the soft spoken Unsullied refuse him. That would have pleased her, but she was far more interested in what was happening behind her. Pivoting she returned indoors and found Arya in the middle of telling Amara yet another story. This time though, as the killer needed to stop and catch her breath frequently, she urged Amara to act out what she’d just heard with her various wooden toys. She arrived just in time to see the lion chasing after the baby dragon. While Amara pushed her toys toward the edge of the blanket Daenerys chuckled. Sometimes it really was hard to decide which one of them was more adorable. 

Arya’s eyes, which had been lingering closed as she weaved her story snapped open now. Daenerys smiled at her. She’d long imagined getting the Stark in her bed, but she hadn’t thought it would be like this. “You don’t need to stay here on my account,” she informed her. “The servants are close by, the Maester says I’m getting better and I have Amara who is doing an excellent job of keeping me entertained. I’m certain you have matters to attend to.”

The light atmosphere evaporated and the look that passed between them was serious. “Anything that requires my attention can wait until tomorrow,” she decided suddenly and without valid consideration. 

“Daenerys,” she said in a sigh. “We’re fine here, right Amara?”

The grey eyed girl looked to her mother. “Yep, we fine.”

Rather than kiss her daughter goodbye and march through the door, like a good ruler might have done, Daenerys only went as far as the bed and then she nudged Amara into the middle, so she’d have room to join them. “I can’t leave until I hear the rest of this story. Did the lion catch the baby dragon?”

As was rapidly becoming clear to her, being a good mother and a good queen didn’t necessarily go hand in hand. Listening to Amara’s exaggerated laugh, Daenerys realized the truth, being the best leader for her people wasn’t her highest priority any longer. 

R-C

Three days after Viserys was taken away in chains Arya was defying even the Maester’s most generous predictions. Her breathing was no longer labored, the cut and slash wounds no longer bled between her stitches and she could even stand on her own, although only briefly. 

Daenerys had returned to the matter of governing during the day, but she hadn’t been to the dungeon to see her brother. She received daily reports, but couldn’t be bothered to confirm them with her own two eyes. She spent years terrified of him, measuring every word and action for fear of ‘waking the dragon’ but now he felt insignificant. Even after all he’d done, all he’d taken from her, she still had plenty. It was true she still mourned Drogo and their son, she always would, but she was trying to remain focused on the present, on Amara and Arya. 

To that end she had refused each time Arya offered to move out of the Queen’s chambers and back into her own room down the hall. She also didn’t require Amara to sleep in her own bed. Every night since Arya properly woke the three of them they slept huddled together. A dragon on one side, a wolf on the other and Amara, half of each wedged tightly in the center. 

It was during one of these nights, after Amara was asleep, that Arya finally told her in whispers exactly what happened in Braavos. Daenerys listened with no shortage of nervousness. Even knowing Arya survived and was safe, it still left her uneasy to hear the details. 

“So the House of Black and White knows about Amara?” she asked, gently combing the girl’s hair. 

She swallowed hard and leaned forward slightly. “I suspect they’ve always known. I should have known I’d never be able to fool them.”

Daenerys couldn’t allow her to blame herself. She leaned over and settled a kiss on her lips. “You tried to do a good thing for Amara, don’t berate yourself for it.”

“I just wish it worked. There is no telling who they’ll share the secret with now.”

She knew this was true and it scared her as much, if not more than it did Arya, but Daenerys chose to address only the part of the news she wanted to. That was her Queen’s prerogative. “At least you have no reason to leave now. You can stay with Amara and I here, where you belong.” She finished her offer with a kiss, a deep, passionate one that left even her feeling overheated. 

“I have more reason now than ever,” she confessed, with a yawn. As she spoke she looked into her lap and no where else. “I attacked the leader of the Temple, he will not forgive. He’ll send Faceless Men by the boatload and now that they know of you and Amara, they know where my weaknesses are.” 

“We are stronger together, with your help, and the army, we will all be safe,” she declared, perfectly aware she was trying to convince herself as much as Arya. 

“Running won’t help,” Arya stated calmly. “If I thought,” she said after a yawn, “that it would, I’d be gone but even if I could make it to the Shadowlands, it wouldn’t matter. He’d still find me.” As she finished her head bobbed and she nearly tilted over onto Amara. 

Rather than make assurances neither of them would believe Daenerys used a light touch and pushed Arya flat, keeping her wounds protected by the many pillows. “They aren’t here tonight, we’re safe Wolf. Sleep now and dream happy things. Our troubles will be here in the morning.”

R-C

After a week it couldn’t be put off any longer. “You need to decide what you want to do with him,” Tyrion told her as they ate their breakfast in a private sitting room not far from her chambers. 

She looked to Arya and smiled. “I know, I know, but I’ve had a bit on my mind recently.”

Tyrion grinned at his friend. “Yes well now that the Stark will live, I think its time you settled things with Viserys.”

“I will.”

“Today, your Grace,” he advised. “We have other matters to discuss and they’ll be much easier dealt with once we know what you intend to do with your brother.”

“Matters like what?” Instead of answering, he tilted his chin to where Amara and Arya were stealing bites off each other’s plates. She wasn’t in the mood for games. “Matters like what Tyrion?!”

With a resigned sigh he replied, lowering his voice. “If its true that her Order knew the truth, we need to prepare for the event that others know as well.” 

“And how do we do that?”

“I was thinking, the crux of it is her appearance, really. A minor detail before but given the fact that you’ve taken her into your bed and asked her to stay, it won’t take long for people to conclude she’s more Arya’s than yours.”

“Perhaps we tell them,” she posed. She hadn’t expected a favorable reply, but she hadn’t expected his eyes to bulge out quite that far either. “As you say, people know, maybe this is best.”

His chubby hand pinned hers to the table. “It isn’t best. For one thing you’d lose your heir, the only one you’ll ever have. Also, nobles who oppose you would claim you lied with malice to hold the throne. There would be a backlash unlike any you’ve ever seen. If there is one thing the nobles of Westeros universally despise, it’s being made to look foolish in front of the others.”

“Do you have a suggestion for me?” She was growing more frustrated and depressed the longer this conversation went on. 

“The girl looks like a Stark, it’s undeniable, Sansa saw it, I see it, you see it, and everyone else will see it if Arya is standing close enough that they can compare the two.”

Daenerys pulled her hand out from under his. “Are you suggesting I send her away?” 

“N…no, of course not, your Grace,” he muttered, peeking over his shoulder to see if Arya had taken note of their conversation. She had. “No, I’m suggesting that we take advantage of what we’ve got.”

“What do you mean?”

“We never told anyone who Amara’s father was,” Tyrion explained quickly, aware that the whole table was now listening. “We kept it intentionally vague, but what if we finally confessed it was a Stark.” He looked to Arya for help. “When I rode to the Wall, I was accompanying men who were to take the black, your brother among them.”

Daenerys chanced a look to Arya and could see how tense she was. She knew of her bastard brother only barely. Watching now, she could see it was a subject Arya didn’t enjoy. “My brother Jon.”

“Right, the bastard,” Tyrion remembered, grimacing visibly at his slip of the tongue before he gave Arya an apologetic smile. “Right, your brother, I was thinking that maybe we could name him as Amara’s father. That would explain why she looks like Arya, and why Arya suddenly appeared to watch over Amara.”

Daenerys couldn’t deny she liked the idea. It tied almost everything in a neat bow. Still, it was her family so the final decision needed to be Arya’s and Arya’s alone. “Is your brother still on the Wall?” she asked softly. “Do you think he’d be willing to lie for us? We told everyone he was dead, but that’s easy enough to explain if he’s sworn to Castle Black.”

“You needn’t worry Daenerys,” Arya announced. “If Jon were sitting here, he’d definitely agree to help us. There is no need to amend the story either, Jon was killed several years ago, raiding on the other side of the Wall. Sansa got a raven at Winterfell and she told me of it. Jon’s dead.”

R-C 

After an hour playing with Amara, Daenerys needed to fulfill her promise to Tyrion. “You,” she said, picking up the girl and twirling her around, “be good for Aunt Missandei. And you,” she said taking hold of Arya’s hand and lacing their fingers, “get some rest, the Maester says you need to take care not to tear your stitches.”

“I’m fine Daenerys. I’ll meet you down there.”

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. Did she forget about plans they’d made? “Down where?” she was finally forced to ask. 

“The dungeon,” she said as she rolled her eyes in a very Amara-like gesture. “If you intend to see him, I intend to be there.”

“Arya, you need to rest,” she challenged. 

“Don’t argue Daenerys,” she countered before she claimed her mouth for a kiss. As their lips were pulling apart she added, “Just say thank you.” 

Queen or not, mother or not, she was still a woman in love. Her cheeks blushed and she ducked her head before she popped up on her toes to steal a kiss of her own. “Thank you Arya.”

Viserys was waiting, exactly as she expected to find him. He was naked, he was bloodied and he was beginning to lose weight as her guards regularly ‘forgot’ to feed him. “Sweet sister, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me. Who’s your friend?” he asked, his tone haughty and mocking. 

She refused to relinquish control to him, even for a moment. “Have you ever seen a real dragon brother?” she asked as she paced back and forth in front of his cell. “Arya and I ride them. I know you always wanted to fly into battle like our ancestors, and while that will never happen, a real, live, fire breathing dragon will be the final thing you see before you die painfully.” She stopped moving directly in front of where he’d been shackled and she stared straight into his eyes. “Fire and Blood right brother?”

“That’s right sister,” he agreed. “Can I pose just one question before my execution?” She didn’t feel obligated to answer. She knew he’d ask with or without permission. “If you and your lovely Northern friend are here then who is protecting vulnerable little Amara?”

Daenerys and Arya shared a look before they both darted for the staircase. Even with her injuries Arya was lengths ahead by the time Daenerys had managed to call for the guards. The screams of the two hysterical mothers were nearly enough to drown out Viserys’s bitter laugh, almost. 

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry about that. I couldn’t make it too easy on them. Plus, Viserys strikes me as a guy who has schemes for his schemes, he wouldn’t go down without a fight. To the people who have followed me this far, I hope you don’t regret it now. 
> 
> Thank you for your comments and thank you for reading. 
> 
> Russell Craig


	13. Chapter 13

The first sign of trouble was the dead Dothraki she found at the bottom of the staircase. Taking the steps two at a time she rushed for where Amara liked to play. Four dead Unsullied awaited her outside the door, two of which hadn’t even managed to draw their swords. 

Inside the room Missandei was lying on the floor, blood leaking from her head. Daenerys ran to her, kneeling down and tentatively checking for a pulse. She gave the assassin a wary smile. “She’s alive. Find the Maester!” she yelled to anyone close enough to hear. 

Not in the mood for games she knelt down next to the injured woman and gripped her shoulders tightly. Shaking her she called Missandei’s name loudly, forcing her from her unconsciousness. Groggily the former slave reached for her head. “Gods, what happened?”

In reply she shook her again, harder. “Missandei, focus.” It took a few seconds but the dark eyes locked in on her scarred face. “Where is Amara? What happened?”

Nearby Daenerys was crying, holding the wolf toy Amara must have dropped. She could understand how hard this had to be for the Queen. She’d already lost one child and now another was stolen from her. This had to be opening old and painful wounds. She didn’t blame her for falling apart into her grief and fear, the assassin could understand, she felt it too. She couldn’t succumb to those things now, Amara needed her, Daenerys needed her. She wished she could have said something reassuring, or comforting but she knew her words would fall flat. Only one thing would heal Daenerys’s heart and that was getting Amara back safely. 

“I don’t… I don’t remember,” Missandei stammered. 

She did not have time for this. Amara was missing. With a hard slap to Missandei’s cheek, she stunned both of the other women in the room. “Arya, what in the name of the Gods are you doing? She’s already hurt!” 

She ignored the Queen. “Missandei, tell me what happened.”

“It happened so fast,” she said in a low voice. “One minute we were playing a game and laughing and the next he was here, standing between us.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “Who was it?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted weakly. “I never saw him before. He had a knife and when I tried to resist he put it to Amara’s throat. He said I didn’t need to die for some bastard girl.”

She heard Daenerys’s cries, but blocked them out as best she could. “It was only one man?”

Missandei nodded. “He moved so fast.” After a pause she remembered something and looked over the killer’s shoulder to her friend and Queen. “Your Grace, I’m so sorry. I tried to save her, but I couldn’t. Grey Worm arrived just before he hit me, he went after them.”

“Do you know where they went?” she demanded to know, pulling Missandei’s attention back to her. 

Her head shook before the words followed. “No, I’m sorry.” 

She knew she’d gotten all she could from their witness. Standing tall, she moved to the door without comment. Daenerys noticed, still clutching the wooden carving. “W…hat What are you doing Arya? Where are you going?”

She answered as she descended the stairs with Daenerys following close behind. “I’m going to talk with your brother.”

“Viserys? We need to be looking for Amara.” She knew if Daenerys was thinking clearly she would have understood why they needed to talk to her brother, but she seemed frantic and confused, too lost in her own mind to worry about the details. 

“Only one person here knows where he took Amara, and that’s Viserys. He’s going to tell me, whether he wants to or not.” 

When they reached the dungeon they were met by a man wearing a wry smile. “Problems upstairs Daenerys?” he mocked. 

She jumped to life at the sound of her name. She ran forward and clutched the bars of the cell separating them. “Where is she? Where is Amara?”

“I don’t know,” he said with fake sincerity. “Did something happen?”

“Unlock the door!” Daenerys commanded, looking to the Unsullied who was acting as jailor. 

“How kind of you, sister. Are you finally going to release me?” 

“Where is my daughter!” she shouted as the cell door was opened for her. 

He scoffed rudely. “Daughter? Please, I’ve fucked whores in Lys who have more Targaryen blood in them than that girl.” 

At the insult Daenerys lunged and slammed her small hand into his face. Bound in the chains Viserys couldn’t flee or protect himself, he just took the brunt of the damage. “She is my daughter,” Daenerys said as her fear and pain gave way to anger. She hit him again, harder this time. 

“She’s a fraud and the first thing I’ll do once I’m King is have her killed. You will give me a child of pure blood, as is tradition and in exchange I will forgive you for trying to steal what was mine.”

The assassin listened and watched as Daenerys punched again, shouting at her brother as she did. This wasn’t working. “Stop!” she yelled, drawing all eyes to her. She pivoted and faced the Unsullied. “Find a chair, put it in a room upstairs and nail it to the floor. Bring some rope.”

Rather than respond the solider looked to Daenerys for approval. She tilted her head in a barely noticeable nod and the Unsullied was off to obey. Before he left he handed the killer the key to Viserys’s chains. 

“You know,” he said as she began unlocking his binds, “you really have no one to blame but yourselves. Poor little Amara couldn’t protect herself and you left her alone.”

Leaving the chain around his neck, she used it as a leash to pull him along. She ignored his snide comments and pretended not to hear Daenerys crying in the background. 

This was her worst nightmare. She’d left Amara with Daenerys to avoid precisely this situation. The Faceless Men, Kenning, Viserys, she and Daenerys had no shortage of enemies. Her mind raced as she tried to predict which one Viserys would turn to. He didn’t like Kenning, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use him. The Faceless Men were a powerful ally but one equally as dangerous. Viserys didn’t strike her as the type of man who would court death by involving the House of Black and White more than necessary, but she’d been wrong before. It felt almost natural when her emotions were pinned down under the weight of her rage. This was entirely too familiar. 

 

Upstairs everything was prepared. She forced Viserys down and then used a length of thick rope to bind his wrists to the arms of the chair. She’d been silent during their trip up from the dungeons but now she was ready to talk. “Do you know who I am?”

He gave her a look that asked if she was an invalid. She knew then that he knew exactly who the Northerner was. “You’re the one who is supposed to make me share my secrets.” 

She stared straight into his eyes and smirked darkly. “You will tell me, I promise you, the only choice you have in this is how much pain you have to suffer before we’re done.” 

Leaning forward he spit on her face. “I won’t talk to some animal. If you want to know where Amara is, leave me alone with my sister.”

She answered him by grasping the chain around his neck and yanking hard, choking him. He tried to call out to Daenerys, who was watching just inside the door, but his voice was stifled. “You don’t make the rules anymore,” she told him. “Now tell me where Amara is?”

“Fuck you!” he cursed. 

Without bothering to wipe the saliva from her face she looked at the captive. “I know you’ve been to the House of Black and White and I know you saw what they do there.” He opened his mouth to speak but was quieted by an elbow to his throat. “I was one of the Old Man’s favorites. He taught me so much.” 

Remembering Daenerys was there she stopped and turned. “You don’t need to see this,” she said, her voice turning soft. “Go check on Missandei and send scouts out to see which way the kidnapper went.”

Straightening her back she shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She didn’t have time to argue, so she nodded. When she turned back Viserys was grinning. “How sweet.” Understanding passed over his face and he barked out a bitter laugh. “You and her? Daenerys you can’t be serious. You can do so much better.”

“Do you know how loud a man screams when you set him on fire?” she asked, as she circled the chair. “Do you know how hard you need to hit a man to break this bone?” As she asked, she reached out and traced one thin finger down his leg, from his thigh to his knee. “Do you have any idea how long it takes a man to bleed when you hang him upside down and cut the back of his ankle?”

She stopped to let her words sink in. “Daenerys, who is this brute?”

Acting as if he hadn’t spoken she took the chain and jerked it again. He gagged and she gave him a dark smile. “I know the answers to all those questions and I swear to the Many Faced God that if you don’t tell me where Amara is, you’ll learn the answers too.” 

“You can’t threaten me. I’m the only one who knows where your precious Amara is. You need me alive.”

She disagreed. “You’re going to die,” she told him bluntly. “Whether you tell me or not, you’re enjoying your final day.”

Viserys seemed stunned by this and looked to his sister for aid. “Daenerys, you can’t kill me, you need me.”

“Tell us where Amara is and I’ll spare your life,” the Queen offered, looking less than royal with tear stains tracking down her cheeks. 

Again the killer disagreed. “No, he helped to kidnap Amara, he’s a dead man.”

His expression made it clear he didn’t believe her. She countered by taking the dagger Daenerys had given her off her belt and dragging the edge along Viserys’s arm. He squirmed in a feeble attempt to get away, but the rope held him. With a flick of her wrist she cut him across the base of his hand. He squealed like a girl and the assassin was privately pleased. The blood helped sooth her rage. 

Without another word she went behind the chair. When Viserys couldn’t see her, she bent down and slashed across the back of his ankle. This time he kicked his leg out in protest, but she was faster, moving her dagger to deepen the wound. “You’re going to need some stitches,” she commented sarcastically. “We should really call the Maester.”

The Targaryen squirmed in obvious pain. “Yes, call for the Maester.”

“He’s busy with Missandei, who was injured when Amara was taken. Tell us where she is, and I’ll have your wounds tended to,” Daenerys proposed. 

Viserys rolled his eyes in obvious disapproval. “He wasn’t supposed to leave anyone alive.”

“Who wasn’t?!” she shouted, pressing the dagger into the side of his throat. 

“I thought your Order was the best. ‘The finest assassins in the world’ I was told.”

“A Faceless Man took her?” she asked quickly, pressing the dagger down to draw blood. 

She should have seen it sooner. Of course it was one of her brothers. Who else could hope to fight off four Unsullied alone? Not to mention the Dothraki. Who else could disappear from the keep without a trace? Her stomach turned as she thought about her fight with the Old Man. He wouldn’t have had time to send someone, they’d still be crossing the sea and that left only one. One man she knew was in Westeros recently, one man she was certain was capable of the death and violence she saw. She’d seen it for herself as a girl. Once she’d even commanded it, directing his wrath at her enemies. 

“Jaqen,” she said in a whisper, more to herself than the others. 

Viserys laughed again. “Oh yes, Jaqen and I are old friends. He’s a helpful man. Very talented I hear.”

“Who is Jaqen?” Daenerys wondered. 

“My mentor,” she admitted as she circled Viserys again. With no warning she pulled her dagger across his arm, cutting along the fold of his elbow. The blood flow was thick and rapid. “Where did he take her?”

Although she was terrified on the inside, she did her best not to show it. She knew that if Jaqen wanted Amara dead, he would have killed her and left her body for them to find. He hadn’t, which meant she was likely still alive. She thought of the little girl she loved and how scared she must be. It propelled her to keep going. Viserys was going to talk, because she wasn’t going to stop hurting him until he did. 

“I hear you Dragons like fire,” she said as she twirled the bloody dagger in her hand. In the center of the room was a hearth and she held the blade over the flames, waiting until it was glowing red. Viserys could tell what was coming and he wrestled with the ropes. She moved slowly, letting the fear settle inside him. As he screamed she pressed the hot steel against his elbow, searing the wound closed. “Can’t have you bleeding to death before I’m ready.”

Whimpering in a pathetic display, Viserys’s tear filled eyes locked on Daenerys. “Release me and I’ll tell you everything.” 

Daenerys stepped forward until she was next to her lover. “Tell me everything and perhaps I’ll release you.”

While the siblings discussed a peace that would never happen, she returned her dagger to the flame preparing for the next round. 

“Your friend seems rather intent on killing me,” Viserys noted accurately. “I’ll need assurances…”

She laughed humorlessly. “Here is your fucking assurance,” she said as she pressed the hot dagger right under his eye. He thrashed and screeched as she branded him but she didn’t remove the blade until the red had gone out of the steel. 

“Have you ever seen a direwolf hunt?” she asked rhetorically as she circled him, a predator and her prey. “They like to play with their food. I’ve seen a direwolf eat their dinner piece by piece while it was still alive.” 

Unsure of if Viserys was in too much pain to hear her, she gripped his hair and pulled hard. Before she let go she let out a loud, echoing whistle that beckoned Nymeria to her. When the wolf arrived she knew she’d found his weak spot, the look of absolute terror on his face was almost enjoyable. 

“This is Nymeria, my direwolf and she loves Amara almost as much as we do, so that means she’ll do whatever it takes to get her back, including eating whatever part of you I tell her to.”

“Daenerys, she can’t be serious. Stop her sister!”

Unmoved by his pleas she reached down and petted Nym’s fur, coating it with a tinge of red from her hands. “Good girl. Now bite his balls.”

Growling, she leapt onto the bound man and followed instructions. Viserys tried to thrash, and throw her off, but he failed. As her teeth sunk into his flesh he screamed in agony. “Kenning! Kenning, fucking Kenning, the assassin took her to Kenning!” 

With a snap of her fingers Nymeria released him and trotted back to her side with blood around her mouth. “Jaqen took her to Kayce?”

“Yes, it was the plan from the start. If I wasn’t given the throne they were to take the girl,” he admitted as he cried, his wounds severe and bleeding. “Your friend at the Temple said it was the best way to force your hand.”

“He was right.” Turning away from the beaten man she called for the Dothraki she knew would be nearby. “Take Daenerys’s brother back to his cage and when you get there, hang him upside down.”

Viserys was shocked by this outcome. “W…what?! Daenerys I told you what you wanted to know… you can’t do this… I’m your brother, I’m your King!”

With nothing even akin to regret in her body she wiped her hands off on her pants. “Don’t let him die. I want to kill him myself.”

R-C

Daenerys was speechless. She’d seen some brutal displays during her time with the Khal, but watching Arya torture her brother was something else entirely. She’d taken him apart piece by piece, taunting him as she went. It was methodical and gross and at times Daenerys was confident Arya was enjoying it. 

She considered putting a stop to it, Viserys was her brother after all, and the blood ties were still there, even though she pretended they weren’t. In the end, she allowed Arya to do what needed to be done, what she didn’t have the stomach to do, because Amara’s life was at stake. 

She had intended to offer her brother the throne in exchange for the information. She would have gladly traded her crown to keep Amara safe, but when Viserys made it clear he intended to kill Amara, she knew her plan was flawed. With no other strategy she relied on Arya’s methods. 

Guilt raced through her as she thought about Amara. How had she let this happen? She was Queen of Seven fucking Kingdoms, she had armies willing to die for her but she couldn’t protect her own daughter inside the keep? It was despicable. 

Once they had the information she fled into the hallway, not wanting to spend one more second looking at her brother. She heard Arya’s dark commands to the Dothraki and she knew without a doubt that Arya was serious. She would kill Viserys and even if Daenerys wanted to stop it, there would be nothing she could do. 

As soon as they were out into the hall, with a closed door between them and Viserys Daenerys threw herself into her lover’s arms. “I’m so sorry!” she said as she buried her face into Arya’s neck. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault. You left Amara with me to keep her safe and so I would protect her. All this time we were worried about your past, when we should have been worried about mine.”

She felt a kiss on the top of her head. “This is not your fault Daenerys. We’re going to go and we’re going to bring her home.” 

“Tell me she’s still alive,” Daenerys begged. She needed assurances, she needed hope and only Arya could give those to her. 

The torturer with blood still coloring her hands nodded grimly. “If he intended to kill Amara, he would have done it here. She’s alive, and Kenning is smart enough to keep her that way.” 

“Let’s go then. We’ll take the dragons, it’ll be faster.”

“Your going to need a new Warden in the West,” Arya declared as they went out into the dragon courtyard. 

She was in a hurry, but she couldn’t allow this to get any worse. She stopped walking and grabbed hold of Arya’s arm. “You intend to kill him then?”

“Don’t you?” she challenged as she pulled her arm free and continued on her way. “I made James Kenning a promise once and I intend to keep it.”

“What did you promise him?” she questioned warily. 

“It doesn’t matter. When we get there you take Amara and go. I’ll handle the rest.”

Daenerys tensed. She remembered wanting to burn entire cities to ash and she would have done it too, if Tyrion hadn’t stopped her. Since then she’d tried to be better, to be a good Queen, to be fair and honest and decent, everything her father wasn’t. “You can’t just kill everyone.”

Arya spun on her sudden with fire in her grey eyes. “Yes I can Daenerys. I’ll kill his entire family while he watches and then when he begs for death, I’ll send him to the Many Faced God.”

The dragons were waiting for them, as if they somehow sensed they were needed. She approached Drogon quickly, climbing up his wing without bothering to even pet him first. 

By the time she was settled Arya already had Rhaegal off the ground. In a few quick flaps of his wings Drogon had caught up to and passed his sibling, taking the lead. She may not agree with all of Arya’s acts, but she understood the sentiment. Since she found out Amara was gone Daenerys had been a wreck, crying and cursing the Gods as she begged for her daughter back. Arya on the other hand was all about action. She needed to do something, to feel useful so she ordered around her guards, and she tortured Viserys. It might have been about finding Amara, but Daenerys knew it was also about keeping herself busy so she didn’t fall apart. 

Under other circumstances she might have enjoyed the clouds, the breeze and the sun but she barely noticed it now. She couldn’t even appreciate looking to her left and seeing Arya there, on a dragon right next to her. All she could think about was Amara. Her poor little girl who was likely scared and confused. She promised every God she knew that if she got her daughter back safely, she’d make sure no one could ever harm her again. She vowed to be a better mother, a better person, a better ruler, if only Amara could come back home. 

The flight to Kayce was quick and yet it felt like ages to Daenerys. When Drogon landed on the roof of Kayce’s Great Hall, she barely let him settle before she was sliding down his wing, landing onto her feet with a thud. During the trip her fear had solidified into determination. She was going to get Amara back, even if she had to marry James Kenning to do it. 

“Give me a dagger,” she ordered without pretense. 

A dark eyebrow lifted in question. “Excuse me?”

“We left in a hurry,” she admitted. “I didn’t have time to bring a weapon.”

In a fluid movement that Daenerys didn’t see until it was over, Arya retrieved her dagger from somewhere and then flipped it in her hand. She held the blade carefully, extending the handle to Daenerys. “Be careful,” she said in a surprisingly tender voice, before her hardened exterior returned. 

She held the dagger she’d given Arya as a gift and it felt heavier than she remembered. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel when it occurred to her that Viserys’s blood was drying on the steel. 

“What of your mentor?” she asked. 

“They kidnapped our daughter Daenerys. He is not leaving here alive.”

“Arya…” she said in warning. 

The assassin was clearly uninterested. “Just focus on Amara. She needs you Daenerys. You’re a good mother. Take care of her for me, just like you promised.”

The tears she thought she had run out of threatened to begin anew. “Why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye?” 

Instead of answering, Arya walked to the edge of the roof and stepped off. Daenerys gasped until she got to the side and peeked over. She was unprepared to see the Northern girl hanging from a ledge outside a large stain glass window. Looking at the unforgiving ground below, and the terribly thin ledge, she knew she couldn’t do it. She’d find another way down. 

R-C

“I knew a girl would come,” he said as he into view. 

“Where is she?” 

“Pretty girl, smart too. She reminds me of you.”

“Why did you do it?” she needed to know. “Why kidnap my daughter?”

He remained emotionless. The very visage of a Faceless Man. “I do as my God commands, no more and no less.” 

“Where is she?” the killer repeated, a growl escaping from between her tightly closed teeth. 

“She’s close. You can likely hear her cry, if you would only just listen.” The face she trusted, the voice she came to rely on only infuriated her now.

“If you hurt her…”

“You’ll what?” he contested. “Kill me? The Many Faced God calls one of us girl but it is not I.”

She drew her sword. “We’ll see.”

“Don’t you want to check on your daughter first?” he asked, angling his head toward the closet. 

In a flash she forgot all about her thirst for blood and she was turning her back on her enemy. It violated every rule she’d ever been taught but that mattered far less than Amara. She nearly tore the door from its hinges and inside, the beautiful girl sat waiting on the floor. 

Unlike the times she’d found Amara during their games of hide and seek, this time she was not smiling with a toy in each hand. Now she had dried tears lining her cheeks and her big eyes were wide with fear. She’d been tied up, her hands behind her back, and she had a rag stuffed into her mouth as a gag. Even the dress she wore was torn, and spotted with blood. In a panic she scanned Amara for injuries and aside from a bruise under her right eye, she had none that the killer could see.

Dropping to her knees she ripped the gag from her mouth. While Amara cried her name she hugged her tightly. Leaving her sword on the floor she used the time to reach behind her and untie the rope. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, sending relief through the assassin’s entire body. “I wanna go home,” she said as she clung to her mother. 

“I know darling. Your mama is here with Drogon and she is going to take you home right now.” 

Holding Amara in her arms she picked up her sword with the other. Only now, when she knew Amara was safe could she focus on other things. She took note of a small cut above his eye. Her relief multiplied. The blood on Amara’s dress wasn’t hers at all. 

“She didn’t make it easy, did she?” she asked, pointing to his minor injury with her weapon. 

“She is more like a girl than you think. She could be No One someday.”

The thought repulsed her. “She will never be No One,” she said with confidence. “Daenerys!” she called, not caring who else heard them. “Get up here!”

When the reply came it wasn’t in Daenerys’s voice but Kenning’s. “Why don’t you come down instead?”

Balancing Amara on one arm in case Jaqen attacked, she looked to the man who was once her mentor and friend. “I didn’t harm her, I only serve. I was told to bring her here and kill you when you came.” 

She shifted her body to put as much space between Jaqen and Amara as she could. “Is that what you’re going to do?” 

“Don’t you wish to say goodbye first?” With that, he motioned for the door and she went, aware of him close behind. 

Midway down the steps Amara noticed Daenerys and yelled for her, squirming in an attempt to get down. She might have released her, had it not been for the seven guards stationed around the room. She noticed three with swords ready, and the rest held bows with arrows nocked. 

“Drop the sword,” Kenning instructed. 

She did so without hesitation, causing a large clanging against the stones. Suddenly the fear of Jaqen behind her wasn’t nearly as strong as her worry for Daenerys. Kenning stood behind her, his sword pressed against her side as if he intended to plunge it in at any moment. 

“Amara are you okay?!” the Queen asked, locking her eyes on Amara and not moving. 

In her arms the child nodded. “Can we go home mama?”

At the bottom of the stairs she stopped walking, leaving Jaqen two steps above her. On both sides Kenning guards approached. They were mercenaries, sell-swords bought and paid for, but that didn’t make them any less dangerous. 

A plan was forming in her mind and while it wasn’t a good one, it was all she had. She set her daughter down and then squatted to look into those perfect grey eyes. “I need you to do something for me,” she said as softly as she could with so much anger running in her veins. 

“What?” Amara asked, looking between the assassin and the Queen. 

“Close your eyes and cover your ears,” she instructed. 

Despite her age she seemed to understand the seriousness of their situation and she didn’t question it. She closed her eyes tightly, causing wrinkles to form on her youthful face, and she clapped one hand over each ear. 

As soon as it was done, the murderer was in action. She lunged to her right, tackling the guard, knocking his bow to the floor. Rolling away she scooped up the weapon and the arrow and took aim. Kenning had moved the sword to Daenerys’s throat in a threatening gesture but it was too late to stop now. She’d already gone too far. She whispered a prayer as she looked at the narrow window she had to hit her target. Like the coward he was, Kenning was hiding behind Daenerys’s body, but that didn’t mean all of him was protected. 

The bowstring was rough against her fingers. She felt a cut of a sword across her back as she released it, but her body held up long enough to complete its task. The arrow flew through the air and hit its mark, piercing Kenning’s hand, and forcing his sword to fall. Taking advantage of the situation Daenerys drew the dagger and forced it into Kenning’s leg. As he fell, she darted across the room to Amara, picking her up. 

All around them the guards were prepared to take action. The wound to her back was deep, but she didn’t care. When an archer took aim at the two most important people in her life she jumped in front of them, shielding them. She willingly took the arrow, even as it hit the side of her neck, opening a large void. 

“No!” Kenning shouted from where he’d collapsed. “Don’t kill them you fools!” 

“Arya!” Daenerys cried, holding Amara to her body. 

“I’m fine,” she lied as she struggled to remain standing. The bow dropped and she staggered. “I’m fine,” she said again, slurring her words. “Take Amara home.”

“Arya I’m not leaving you!”

With her hand pressed to her neck to stem the bleeding she looked from Daenerys to Kenning and then finally to Jaqen. There wasn’t time for a debate. She needed them to go before she couldn’t defend them anymore. “If you ever loved me Daenerys you’ll get Amara out of here now.”

Violet eyes met grey and she allowed herself a moment to just stare. She knew it opened her up to another attack but that wasn’t important now. “Arya…”

“Go! Drogon’s waiting. Tell Missandei I’m sorry.” She swallowed hard, falling to one knee. “I love you both, now go.”

“You coming too?” Amara asked naively as she clutched the front of her mother’s dress. 

In spite of her pain she did her best to give her daughter a smile. “I’ll be right behind you. I’ll see you soon sweetheart, I promise.”

With one final look in her direction Daenerys darted out of the main room and into the kitchen, searching for an exit the assassin was confident she’d find. Initially she thought it strange that Kenning’s men didn’t attack, or chase after Daenerys and Amara. Likewise, it seemed odd that Jaqen only observed. It took longer than it should have for the pieces to come together. She blamed the blood loss. After thought it made sense. Kenning still wanted the throne, and Daenerys was the best way for him to achieve his goal. Jaqen didn’t interfere because the House of Black and White had sworn not to harm the Targaryen. As her vision started to blur she heard Drogon roar and she knew they were safe.

She smiled then, perfectly at peace with her coming death. She was wounded and outnumbered. She might have been able to fend off Kenning’s untrained band of thugs but she’d never be able to defeat a Faceless Man in her current state. She still hadn’t recovered fully from the fight at the Temple. “You know,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Jaqen, “I think that was the first time I ever lied to her.”

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay. I wanted to get this chapter out sooner, but my health didn’t cooperate. 
> 
> This turned out nothing like I originally intended. Once I started writing, I knew I couldn’t ignore the darkness in Arya. She doesn’t have the tools to handle the situation any other way. She needed to be brutal and cold (with rare moments of tenderness). I hope the people reading liked it. I’m not sure how I feel about it honestly, but it seemed like the natural place for the characters to go. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Russell Craig.


	14. Chapter 14

“Are you alright,” Tyrion asked. 

“Whose blood is that?” Jorah wondered. 

She’d barely settled on her own two feet before Tyrion and Jorah were beside her, ushering her to the small council chamber. When he noticed Amara cuddled against her breast, Tyrion spoke again. “You took Amara on Drogon?” 

“Where is Missandei?” she asked neither man in particular. 

“Wandering about the courtyard where Amara plays,” Jorah said with acid in his voice. “She refuses to speak.”

“Come your Grace,” Tyrion pleaded, “tell us what is going on.” 

Both of her advisors slowed when they neared the door to their meeting room but Daenerys kept marching past. She still hadn’t let Amara out of her arms. She wasn’t sure when or if she’d ever be ready to let her go again. 

“Khaleesi,” Jorah reprimanded. “We must speak.”

“I must see Missandei and then I must tend to Amara,” she countered, leaving no room for complaint. “You’re both welcome to join me.” 

Once they were back in step with her it was Tyrion who tried a softer, gentler approach. “Several of the Unsullied are dead, a Dothraki too. Missandei was injured while you, Amara and Arya all gone. We assumed the worst. Even Grey Worm is missing. I have scouts and spies searching in every direction.”

“I know,” she mentioned casually. As they passed an Unsullied she stopped walking. “Soldier, Grey Worm is riding West, ready the army and make sure you join him before he arrives in Kayce. My orders will follow.”

He took off running to ready an attack he knew nothing about and she took several quick steps of her own journey before Jorah’s strong hand yanked her to another abrupt halt. She looked up at him with fire burning in her, as she ripped her arm free of his hold. “You need to tell us what’s happened! You can’t just send out the army.”

“Yes, I can!” she roared with absolute confidence. “They are my army and they serve me. I want them riding to Kayce as soon as possible.”  
For the second time Tyrion tried to guide the conversation back to the details he felt were most relevant. “What happened, your Grace?” he tried softly. 

“Viserys hired a Faceless Man to kidnap Amara.” As she gave a voice to the horrors of the day she couldn’t help but hug Amara a little bit closer, kissing the top of her head. “I will explain everything,” she promised, “after Amara and I check on Missandei.”

While Tyrion went to prepare a room for the meeting, Daenerys sent Jorah to check on the Unsullied, if for no other reason than to put some distance between them. She didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with him. Later, there would be no shortage of opportunities for him to voice his opinions and point out her faults, but that time wasn’t now. 

When she and Amara arrived in the courtyard Daenerys almost didn’t recognize her friend. She was staring off into space, so focused on her thoughts that the usually observant woman hadn’t noticed their return. She had one arm pressed to her stomach as though she’d been vomiting, while her other hand sat on her lap, twitching wildly. Blood matted several of her usually bouncy curls to the back of her head. 

In her mind, she heard some of Arya’s final words; ‘Tell Missandei I’m sorry.’ Even in the serious and dangerous situation they found themselves in, it was still important enough for Arya to say it. Daenerys thought back to when Missandei pointed out to her that Arya wasn’t the type to say things she didn’t believe. That idea comforted her then, and it did the same now. 

She easily could have sought out Missandei after her meetings, after she’d explained everything and given her orders but that would have been cruel. After all Missandei had been through, after all she’d done to make Daenerys a better Queen and a better person, she owed her. Daenerys knew how deeply Missandei loved Amara, and she knew from her little girl that that love was very mutual. She couldn’t allow her to stew in her guilt and fear a moment longer than necessary.

Setting Amara onto her own two feet for the first time since picking her up in Kenning’s home, she squatted down next to the child. “Aunt Missandei has really missed you. She was afraid you got hurt. I want you go over there and give her the biggest hug you can to show her you’re alright.”

Amara didn’t need to hear that request again. Like lightning she bolted across the courtyard. Her heavy steps and panting breaths getting louder the faster she tried to move. When sounds finally pulled Missandei into the present Amara was nearly upon her. She popped up from where she’d been sitting on the grass and gasped. 

Approaching slowly, Daenerys could see big tears glistening in Missandei’s brown eyes. Her whole body shook and her hand hung in the air, clearly undecided between covering her mouth in surprise, or reaching out to confirm Amara was really there.

“Aunt Missi!” Amara shouted. Just as her mother instructed Amara hugged Missandei tight, even grunting with effort and closing her eyes as she squeezed. 

By the time the hug was over, Missandei was crying. “Amara, I missed you so much.” With a hand on each of her little shoulders, she nudged her back to get a full look at her. Daenerys watched as her eyes narrowed at the bruise on her face and then she noted how that anger shifted when she saw the blood on Amara’s dress. “Are you hurt?”

“Nope,” she declared happily, shaking her head to ensure the message got across. “I miss you too. I sorry you got hurt, I told him not to hurt you again or he be sorry,” she rambled, not stopping for unnecessary oxygen as she rushed the words out with only the briefest pauses in between. 

This was news to Daenerys and the Targaryen couldn’t hold back her smirk. To most mothers, and certainly to most Ladies, hearing that her daughter threatened the kidnapper on behalf of a former slave would have been abhorrent but Daenerys was undeniably proud of her girl. It was proof that the make-shift family she’d been trying to build for Amara was working. It gave her hope for the future. 

“Little Dragon,” Missandei said as she kissed her forehead, “that was very sweet and brave. I’m so lucky to have you watching over me. I love you.”

With a gentle touch Amara brushed away all evidence of tears from Missandei’s face. “Mama, she not crying no more!”

At the mention of Daenerys Missandei had released Amara and urged her off to the side slightly. Daenerys felt horrible when all the happiness she’d seen just moments before vanished. “Your Grace,” she said in a gasp. She took two hurried steps toward the Queen before she thought better of it and sank to a knee, bowing her head, giving Daenerys a much better view of her injury. 

Rather than pull Missandei up or order her to rise, Daenerys fell to her knees right there in the grass in front of her friend. With two fingers under her chin she tilted her head back until their eyes met. Daenerys could tell she was just seconds away from another round of tears. “This wasn’t your fault,” Daenerys said, hoping to set the tone right away. “I don’t blame you, Arya doesn’t blame you and thanks to what you remembered we found Amara and she’s perfectly healthy.”

“He didn’t harm her then?” Missandei asked, her dread at the potential answer obvious. “I tried to stop him Daenerys I swear I did, but he was too fast.”

“He was a skilled assassin, none of us could have hoped to fare any better than you did.”

“I’m so sorr…” she tried to say again. 

Daenerys pulled her in for a hug and set her mouth above the translator’s ear. “I don’t blame you Missandei, this wasn’t your fault. Arya wanted you to know she’s sorry for what she did.”

“I deserved far worse,” she said looking down at the ground and away from Daenerys’s eyes. 

“How can you say that? You were alone in a room with a killer and my daughter. When you knew he meant to take her, did you try and stop him?”

“Of course, I ran straight for him, but he was far too fast and strong.”

“Why do that? You could’ve been harmed, you were harmed.”

“I love Amara,” she said with conviction. “If I could have given my own life to stop that man from taking her I would have.”

Daenerys gave her a triumphant smile. “Exactly! Which is why I could never blame you for any of this.” Tentatively she reached into Missandei’s hair and felt around for the wound. “Why haven’t you sought the Maester’s aid?”

“It’s nothing, your Grace, I assure you.”

Daenerys smiled fondly. “I think I’ll trust the Maester’s opinion over yours.”

“I’ll go soon,” she promised. After looking down for a long stretch of time her head snapped up and she met Daenerys’s eye. “I just couldn’t go and get help for my little bump, not when I didn’t know what happened to her.” As she neared the end of her statement, she paused to sigh and then finished with, “It wouldn’t have been right.”

Daenerys understood and it was one more piece of evidence confirming Missandei’s selfless dedication to her daughter. “Amara is back home where she belongs and this will all be over soon.”

“Any word from Grey Worm?” she asked, her reasoning clear. 

“He rode West after the kidnapper. If he follows the same route we did, he’ll arrive in Kayce. I’ve already sent the Unsullied to join him and I plan on sending Lord Kenning a raven or two right away.”

With Missandei on one arm and Amara on the other Daenerys knew only one thing was missing and that was what she intended to fix next. 

R-C

The pain was her first real hint. There was a lot of it, from different spots, too much for her to be dead. Her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive so she focused on what she could see and hear. Her vision was spotted, like trying to squint through a Northern snowstorm. She blinked as rapidly as she could in hopes it might help, but it only made her dizzy. Her ears were equally unhelpful. She was certain she could hear talking nearby, but she couldn’t make out any words. Each time she tried to concentrate it did nothing more than exhaust her and push her down into oblivion. 

This time there was no alternate world with her lost family. There were no dreams of Amara or Daenerys, there wasn’t even agony and regret. She felt empty. 

For an untold period of time she was certain that each time she drifted to sleep, she would never wake up. This didn’t concern her, but she didn’t yearn for it the way she once had either. She tried to count the number of times she came to, but only got as high as six. 

Suddenly she was cold, so very, very cold. Although her eyes wouldn’t open she naturally assumed she’d fallen through the ice at Winterfell. As she shivered and struggled to swim for the surface she tried to remember what she’d been chasing after, was in Jon, a rabbit maybe or Nym?

When her eyes finally cooperated, she knew she wasn’t in Winterfell and she hadn’t fallen through any ice. Instead she was in the Kayce dungeon, stripped naked and being splashed with buckets of cold water to revive her. 

“I think she’s alive,” Kenning said smugly to one of his brothers. 

“Look at all those scars,” a woman said in a judgemental tone as she pointed. 

“She’s the one who killed the Great Lord Kenning and our garrison?”

As her blurred eyes skimmed the crowd she noticed one man standing separate from the others. He wasn’t speaking, only watching and showing no emotion. Jaqen hadn’t returned to the Temple yet, because she wasn’t dead. The question was, why wasn’t she? She would have died without aide which meant that Kenning, Jaqen or both saw to her wounds. Since both intended to kill her, she just didn’t understand. 

“I captured the Rabid Wolf,” he declared, speaking to his crowd. I guess I’ll have to pay myself that bounty now.” Luckily, before long the answer to her nagging question was forthcoming. “I bet you’re wondering why you aren’t dead.”

She stopped looking around her and focused on Kenning alone. She coughed to clear her throat and then replied honestly. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

Kenning laughed and like a proper court the fools behind him followed quickly. “Don’t worry Arya Stark, you’ll die soon but first I wanted to make sure we had a chance to talk about your last trip here, and of course my father. To that end I had the Maester ensure your health, for the time being at least.”

She scoffed without humor. He kept her alive so he could kill her slower. He really was petty. She’d done similar things she knew, worse things, but she classified herself as just as petty, just as vindictive as Kenning, if not more so. 

With her limbs stretched to their limits and held in chain only her head was available to help. She cocked it to the side as if thinking and then winked at the Lord, while all his family and court listened nearby. “Hmm Father Kenning, small, coward of a man if I remember right, I think I hung him.”

A murmur weaved through the onlookers and just as she expected Kenning was enraged. He closed the space between them in a single stride and slammed his fist into her face, breaking her nose and sending it off to the right at a strange angle. As blood pooled on her upper lip she was forced to swallow some as she tried to speak. “You hit like your father,” she told him, “like a girl.”

She grinned and watched the approaching fist. It was harder than the first and provided her a return to nothing. 

R-C

Daenerys had never allowed Amara to join her in the small council room. Yelling amongst the people she loved most didn’t seem like a healthy learning tool but today was a special occasion. This meeting couldn’t wait and Daenerys was fully unprepared to let Amara go anywhere she herself couldn’t see. She set her daughter down in Grey Worm’s unused seat and made sure she had her wolf toy to keep her entertained. Amara was about to get her first real lesson in the discourse of governing.

“Finally!” he said as he threw up his hands. “Are you ready to tell us what’s been going on?” Jorah snapped once she was sitting at the head of the table. 

Tyrion’s soft touch calmed her. “What happened Daenerys? I didn’t even realize you were gone. I had the servants looking everywhere for you. I thought you might be in the dungeons with Viserys, but I found him there with the Dothraki, getting whipped while he hung upside down.”

There was no love lost between Viserys and the Dothraki. They believed her brother killed their Khal and they could never forgive such a slight. She imagined the scene Tyrion described perfectly and she felt nothing at all. Not relief that it was over, not happiness that he was suffering, not even regret for what she knew needed to be done next. She was all out of feelings for Viserys. He’d gone too far. 

“Viserys arranged for one of the Faceless Men to kidnap Amara,” she said quietly, her eyes drifting to the tired little girl sitting in the oversized chair. “He bargained with Lord Kenning in Kayce.”

“You should have told us. We could have ridden West. We could have gotten her back. Going off alone, even with Drogon risked too much.”

She ignored Jorah’s comment and spoke to Tyrion. “Viserys told us when we spoke, to try and earn a stay to his execution. By the time we got upstairs it was over, Missandei was unconscious, the Unsullied and Dothraki were dead and Amara and Grey Worm was gone.”

“Did Arya take her?” Jorah asked suddenly. “I knew we couldn’t trust her. Those assassins are as devious as they are deadly.”

This time Daenerys could not let the comment pass. Arya had risked her life to ensure Daenerys and Amara escaped. She wasn’t going to let anyone, not even Jorah ridicule that sacrifice. “Arya did nothing wrong. In fact, she flew with me to Kayce to bring Amara home.”

“Where is she, huh? Where is our conquering hero?”

Again, Tyrion tried to keep the conversation moving. “What happened then?”

“Very little,” she admitted. “Once I was away from Drogon Kenning’s sell-swords surrounded me and took me inside. “Arya entered through an upstairs window. She found Amara and called for me to come upstairs, but by then I’d been taken to Kenning.” She paused and looked to her daughter who was captivated by the heated conversation. At some point, she had given up the chair of her own in favor of a spot on Missandei’s lap. “Arya wounded Kenning and I managed to get Amara. She protected us and told us to run.” She felt shame as she confessed what she’d done. “We left her there. She’s wounded! We need to hurry.” 

Tyrion gave her a sad look that turned her stomach. “I mean no disrespect your Grace but the likelihood of Arya being alive is low. She hung Lord Kenning’s father and he is not known for his patience nor his mercy. Then there is the Faceless Man, if Kenning hasn’t killed her, the assassin likely has.”

“I know that!” she screamed, bringing her hand down hard on the table. “I know,” she said again, her volume more regulated, “but we have to try, I can’t leave her there like that.” 

“At least she died doing something useful,” Jorah commented snidely. 

Daenerys had heard enough. She went directly to Jorah and leaned into his space, unbothered by the fact that she was so much smaller than he. “One more word,” she threatened. “One more word about Arya and I’ll see you sent across the sea to hold Meereen with Daario.” 

When she looked back to Tyrion the Lannister seemed almost impressed. “Will you and Drogon be joining the Unsullied in their journey West?”

“Drogon will,” she decided, “but I need to stay. Amara needs me here and I’m not ready to let her out of my sight.” 

“What of Lord Kenning?”

“Send ravens ahead of the troops. Tell him I’m willing to negotiate the terms of our marriage, provided Arya Stark remains alive and unharmed.”

“What?!” Jorah shouted. “This is madness. You can’t give up your throne for this woman. If you show weakness now, your enemies will circle around you like buzzards.”

“That is a matter for tomorrow, today I need to ensure Arya is safe.” 

Even Tyrion didn’t seem to agree with her plan. “Your Grace there must be another way.” 

“You are my advisors,” she reminded them harshly. “On this particular matter, I require no council or advice, my decision is made. Now do as I command.” 

Walking to where Missandei and her daughter were whispering together she plucked Amara up and pulled her in close. “Come on sweetheart, let’s go give you a bath.” On her way, out the door she slowed when she passed Tyrion’s seat. “Send the ravens, please.”

R-C

The next time she woke she was alone in a cell with Jaqen. Like her he was inside the bars. Unlike her he was dressed and hadn’t been subjected to regular beatings and floggings. Each time she tried to rest cold water was splashed on her face. It happened so frequently her skin was turning blue and bits of ice formed on the ends of her eyebrows, hair and nose. 

“What are you still doing here?” she asked in a gravelly voice, one desperately in need of water. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been given a drink, or a scrap of food. Days at least. “Isn’t your service complete? You kidnapped Amara and delivered her to Kenning for Viserys.”

“You still live,” he remarked. “I can not return with the Gift ungiven.”

Her parted lips closed in a tight line and she forced herself as upright as she could in her chains. If she was going to die, it was going to be on her feet, or as close to them as she could get. “Do it then,” she challenged fearlessly. “What are you waiting for?”

He leaned in close, his breath blisteringly warm on her cold skin and for a moment she thought he intended to honor her request, but then he just chuckled. “Lord Kenning has plans to make you suffer before you die.”

She thought of her first visit to Kayce. While getting patched up by the Maester, he predicted that the Gods would one day punish her. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps this was her punishment for all the horrible things she’d done. Maybe it was finally her turn to pay. 

R-C

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tyrion asked for the third time since they arrived. They, Missandei and Amara were all up in the tower. Daenerys sat at one of the tables, writing as furiously as she could. In some ways, this felt as though it might be the most important letter she had ever written, but there was no time for Tyrion to edit it, or for her to fret over every word. The ravens needed to be in the air already. Next to her, Tyrion prepared the fastest bird. “I understand you want to save her, but it may already be too late.”

“Then I have nothing to lose. If she’s already dead the marriage proposal dies with her.”

“And will you keep your word if Kenning releases her?” he questioned. “I’m not certain how your husband will take to your former lover, and his former captive living down the hall. Not to mention Arya, if she had to see him everyday…”

“I know Tyrion!” she assured him in a hard voice. “Let’s just find out if she’s alive and then we can worry about the rest of it.”

With her offer penned she went to Amara and picked her up. Carrying her over to the cage that held their ready raven, Daenerys poked two fingers through the wire and urged Amara to do the same. Side by side mother and daughter petted the top of the raven’s head. “The bird needs to fly, really fast,” Daenerys explained, “so we need to say a prayer and wish it luck. Can you help mama do that?”

“Why?”

“It’s for Arya honey.” 

And just like that, that was all Amara needed to hear. First, she petted the bird again and said, ‘good luck’ three separate times before she closed her eyes, and bowed her head to pray. Watching Daenerys couldn’t help but whisper a prayer herself. She could only hope it would be enough. 

R-C

Each morning, or what she assumed was morning, when Kenning came down to the dungeon to beat on her for his daily exercise she was disappointed to have survived the night. 

After four days of beatings he took her outside. The sun was so bright it hurt her eyes and she curled away from it, only to be knocked into the dirt by the guards. She fell face down, unable to protect herself with her hands so tightly restricted. When they stood her up she was facing a tall tree, she recognized it at once, it was where she’d hung Kenning’s father. A rope was already waiting and she thought of Amara and Daenerys. She hoped they would forgive her for all she’d done wrong, more importantly she hoped she’d get to see them again. Unsure of what awaited her in the next life, she knew this – she’d wait for them forever.

The whole surviving Kenning family stood out by the tree. On a distant hill, many of the smallfolk gathered too. She couldn’t see Jaqen but she knew he was there, wearing the face of a stranger, just waiting for her end. The Lord was in front, of course. He made a show of kicking her to the ground when she was close enough and berating her. He accused her of murder, the murder of their Lord father and the Lannisters too. She of course was guilty. 

Her mother would be disappointed, but she saw no point in being polite to the people who were going to kill her. “Aye, I killed him,” she said as she struggled unsteadily back to her feet. “I killed them all and so many more too. Did you hear about Dreadfort? That was me, the Twins, me too. Casterly Rock… anywhere and everywhere my family was harmed I brought the sword. I regret none of it, expect maybe sparing you.”

After a rather violent beating that had her hovering near unconsciousness James dragged her to stand under the tree’s branch. With a wave, he instructed two of his men to lift her onto the stool. Once she was, Kenning climbed up next to her and using a rough hand forced her head through the opening in the rope. With a nod one of his men tightened it. 

He kicked the stool she was standing on without ceremony. As the rope bit into her neck she could taste her blood and felt as if her tongue was swelling inside her mouth. She thrashed, swinging from side to side as she sought purchase. Her dirty toes clawed for solid ground but found nothing. 

With the last bit of her strength she thought of Daenerys, Amara and Sansa. She pictured them together, happy and laughing. It was a good end. 

“Cut her down,” Kenning ordered. The rope suddenly slack, sent her falling to the hard ground on her already injured legs. She screamed and crumpled as she attempted to protect herself. Refilling her lungs hurt almost as badly as the time she spent not using them. “Don’t worry,” Kenning mocked from over her. “We’re going to do this every day until you either die of old age or we accidentally hang you too long.” 

R-C

“Any news?” Daenerys asked, as soon as Tyrion’s small form appeared in the doorway. 

It had been eight days since she sent a marriage proposal to Kenning, but he hadn’t replied. The Unsullied had met up with Grey Worm and they were continuing West, although they had very strict instructions to keep off Kenning’s land until they knew if Arya was alive. 

“Still nothing,” he admitted sadly. “We did however receive another batch of notes and cards to honor Amara’s safe return. Some houses sent gifts, others just their well wishes.” 

“Send the gifts to the orphanage, the children there need them far more than Amara does,” she decided hastily. 

Tyrion surprised her by smiling. “There was one letter that stood out from the rest, your Grace?”

“From who?” she wondered, genuinely curious. 

“Lady Stark. She offers her thoughts and prayers as the others have but she also is sending a vanguard of Northern soldiers South, to act under your command, and to ensure Amara is sufficiently protected.”

Daenerys had not been expecting that. “That is very generous. Please thank Sansa for her kindness and ask that she lead her soldiers. Tell her Amara and I look forward to a visit.”

Tyrion began writing even before she had finished speaking. Although she said nothing she had a hunch that it wasn’t just she and Amara who looked forward to seeing Sansa Stark again. 

R-C

“W…why are y…” she stopped to cough and brought up a mouthful of blood and bile. “Why are you letting … him do this?”

It was hard to keep track, since she was unconscious and undernourished so much of the time, but she thought he’d hung her eight times or so, maybe more. She knew she wouldn’t last much longer. Her neck was lined with purple and black, angry bruises layered atop each other. Breathing was a challenge, even after the rope was removed and her vision was dim around the edges, near constantly. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to speak, so she picked now, when they were alone, to have their final conversation.

“I do not know what you mean.”

“The Ja…Jaqen I met would have killed everyone in the keep, to reach his tar… target.” She paused to cough and then did her best to proceed. “Kill me, it’ll be done.” 

“Maybe I feel a girl deserves the punishment,” he said with no emphasis. “You betrayed the Order, you tried to kill our leader.”

“H… he was …tr…rying to kill me,” she croaked. 

“You should have died with honor then, taken a knee and accepted the Gift. A girl disgraces us all.”

“Is that what you would have done Jaqen?” she asked in her uneven voice. The only evidence he left was the sound of the door closing behind him. 

R-C

“Mama wolf’ses be okay?” Amara asked without opening her eyes. 

Since their return from Kayce, Amara spent every night sharing her mother’s bed. Daenerys rarely slept, but when she did, it comforted her to be able to wake up and have Amara’s face be the first thing she saw. She also liked to be close because despite of how brave she was during the daylight, acting as if the kidnapping never happened, at night Amara’s dreams plagued her. Each time she woke, scared or crying Daenerys would hold her, sing to her in Valyrian and promise it wasn’t real. If only such tricks worked on her own nightmares. 

Daenerys rolled onto her stomach and slid down so her face was level to Amara’s. “You know your mama is the Queen, right?” 

“Uh-huh,” she said after a yawn. 

“Well that means that your mama can do things that other people can’t. Special things, like making sure Arya and Nymeria are okay. We’re going to hear from them soon, I just know it.” Satisfied Amara gave her mother a wide, sleepy smile before she surrendered to her exhaustion. 

R-C

Rain pelted her naked body as she was once again escorted to the tree and propped up on a stool. Unable to stand under her own power any longer guards held her steady until Kenning kicked her legs out from under her. They had a well-oiled system now, one developed through trial and error and repetition. The family was with him again, each one eager to see their father avenged when her neck finally snapped. 

When she wasn’t immediately forced into the noose it took her several seconds to realize the siblings were in the midst of a heated conversation. “Don’t do this James, you could kill her.”

“If she dies, so be it. She deserves far worse.”

From under an umbrella the sister she knew as Claudia held up a scroll. “This says we can barter her for everything we want. Don’t be selfish James. Think about us, think about the family. You owe it to the rest of us to hear her out.”

“She’s a lying bitch,” he spat. “I’ll never be able to trust her, no matter what she writes. She’ll likely have one of her savages gut me.”

“We’ll take precautions brother,” a taller man said to his elder. “Keeping her alive for now is best,” he said with a wicked smirk, “it won’t always be so. Once you’re King, and Daenerys understands how things are done in Westeros, she won’t stand in your way when you say this one needs to die.” 

“She will,” he disagreed. “She’s defiant Raul, you didn’t see her. She fights every step of the way.”

The bigger of the Kenning’s laughed. “Worry not, we will break her in, just as you do any wild beast, with force.”

“I’m not sure,” James said casually. “I have Arya Stark here now and I know the Targaryen will never let me kill her. Perhaps I should just take what I can get.”

“Accidents can happen, James,” a hidden woman said from among the men. “They can happen in King’s Landing as well. Take the Queen’s offer, marry her, become King and then do as you wish.”

Gripping her scarred neck, Kenning removed her head from the rope and then kicked the stool out from under her, as he had done so many times before. She fell like a stone and he drowned her in sharp, brutal kicks to the back and legs. “Why in the name of the Gods are you so important?”

Unable to speak she just stared up at him, marshalling whatever defiance she could. The last thing she heard before the darkness took her was Kenning saying, “Pick her up and bring her inside before she freezes and ruins everything. We’re leaving for King’s Landing at once.”

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Thank you to those of you still along for the ride. This story turned out nothing like I originally imagined. From the moment Daenerys found Arya in Amara’s bedroom and they got into a fight, I’ve been completely off script. I hope it hasn’t been too obvious. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments, I appreciate those who take the time and they really do inspire me to write more often, so thanks. 
> 
> So in summary: Sansa’s bringing friends, Amara is back at home and Kenning is escorting Arya back to Daenerys. Need her to be there for the wedding, right?
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me on this.   
> RC


	15. Chapter 15

Amara had been stuck to Daenerys’s side almost every second since they returned from Kayce. Daenerys didn’t mind in the least, but still it pleased her to see Amara wiggle out of her arms and down to the ground. She squealed as she rushed toward her Aunt, her large smile impossible to miss. 

Sansa squatted down and allowed Amara to collide with her in a full-body hug. “Oh Amara, I’ve missed you so much. Are you okay? I’m so glad you’re safe. I brought some of my army to help keep you safe.”

“Tank you,” she answered, her manners almost instinctive now. “I miss you too.”

“Oh, and I brought you a present, but only because you missed me,” she joked. “You did miss me, right?”

“Uh-huh,” she said holding out her arms to their limit. “This much.”

Sansa and Daenerys both chuckled. “That’s a lot, you definitely deserve a present then. 

While Daenerys watched, Sansa presented her niece with a smaller version of the white wolf shall she wore. The Queen remembered Amara taking a liking to it when the two first met. “There you go,” Sansa said, as she laid it across her shoulders. “Now you’ll stay warn like a real Northerner.”

In that moment Daenerys knew she was going to tell Sansa the truth. Not now, there was too many other things going on. She also knew it could be disastrous without Arya’s support, but Daenerys could be persuasive and she would be. Seeing them interacting together, it felt nearly criminal to keep her secret. She’d just need to convince Arya of that, and first they had to get her back. 

“My Queen in the North, thank you so much for your generosity. Sending your men when a simple note would suffice.”

Sansa reluctantly moved away from Amara to stand before the Dragon. “Your Grace, I was horrified when I heard the news. I’m pleased both you and Amara are well. My men are here to aid in whatever manner you deem most beneficial.” 

“That is very kind. Thank you, Sansa.” She linked their arms together and moved away from the fire. Their meeting was happening at the Northern camp, and not inside King’s Landing. Only she, Amara and Tyrion were outside the walls and none of the others knew why they’d gone. 

On the walk to meet Sansa the party was joined by Nymeria. The wolf appeared as suddenly as that first time. She was slower, walked with a limp to her rear right leg and had a scar across the underside of her belly that was only beginning to heal, but she listened as closely as ever and was even more protective of Amara than she’d previously been. 

“I just wanted to do my part to ensure Amara is kept safe. She’s too precious to be put in risk.”

Daenerys smiled. “I couldn’t agree…”

Amara chose that moment to cut off her mother’s words. “Mama and Arya saved me,” she announced as she held up her arms, in a request to be lifted. 

Sansa picked her up but looked over her head to the ruler. “Arya? Surely she doesn’t mean…”

“Your sister helped me to rescue Amara from the kidnappers,” Daenerys admitted. “The truth is we wouldn’t have survived, let alone escaped if not for her.”

“Is she here?” Sansa asked in unbridled enthusiasm. Her tone turned sombre in a blink. “Oh, the Gods, is she…”

Her words trailed off but Daenerys didn’t need them. She knew what Sansa was asking. She took hold of Sansa’s soft, smooth hand, so unlike her sister’s. “She’s not dead. She was taken captive and I’m negotiating for her release. That’s why I asked you to accompany your vanguard, I wanted to give you the chance to see her.”

Sansa threw herself into Daenerys’s arms with a force she thought only Amara was capable of. “Thank you, your Grace. Thank you so much! I know she’s strong, but I’m her big sister, it’s my job to worry.”

Daenerys smiled fondly. “I understand completely. If it’s alright with you Tyrion is going to explain everything you need to know.”

The Lannister already had two glasses of wine separated by a candle waiting on a nearby table. “Come, I found your favorite wine in the cellar and there is much to talk about.”

Her eyes moved from Daenerys to Tyrion and back. “Yes, yes,” she mumbled, before speaking clearly. “Of course, your Grace, whatever you need, but how did Arya come to be here?” 

The Queen and her Hand shared a loaded look before Daenerys avoided the question as diplomatically as possible. “I know you have questions, and I want to give you the answers. I will give you the answers as soon as I can, but first I need to go and ensure your sister’s release. Then I’ll need to plan my wedding.”

“Your wedding?” Sansa exclaimed as Daenerys led Amara away from the former husband and wife. 

Tyrion chuckled. “Yes Sansa, a wedding, we had one of those as I recall.”

Daenerys heard Sansa’s laugh from several feet away. “Yes, Lord Tyrion we did.”

R-C

“Are you certain you’re willing to do this?” she asked as Tyrion poured his third glass of wine. The book that was usually open on the center of his desk was closed, proving that he was more nervous about the strategy than he was letting on. “I can find another way.”

“This way makes sense,” he said as he took a sip and licked his lips as he lowered the goblet. “Lord Kenning needs assurances you won’t kill him on sight, a hostage guarantees you’ll let him leave King’s Landing alive.”

“I understand how it all works Tyrion, I just wish it didn’t have to be you.”

The Hand shrugged. “This is the heart of diplomacy your Grace. He asked for Amara first, you refused and offered me up in her place.” He paused for another drink. “It was a good choice, and not just because Amara and I take up the same amount of space, but because I’m far less valuable if something were to go wrong.”

Before he could take another drink, she snatched the goblet from his hand and had a taste for herself. “You are plenty valuable,” she countered, draining the remainder of the wine. “You don’t have to do this Tyrion. I won’t ask it of you, not even for this.”

“Then I volunteer,” he announced quickly, with no delay. “I’ll go and once the negotiations are finished, you’ll be married and I can return to King’s Landing.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, bending down to kiss his cheek. He blushed in a way very unlike a Lannister. “I won’t forget this.”

“A statue would be a fitting tribute, I think,” he said seriously. “It wouldn’t even need to be very big, for obvious reasons, but I’d like a good location, some place where all the people can see it and marvel.”

Daenerys laughed in spite of all the horrors that awaited her. “Gather your things, I’ll meet you when you’re ready.”

R-C

“This is not what we discussed,” Jaqen remarked as she was brought out before the two men who awaited her death more anxiously than the rest. “The Many Faced God requires her death. It must be done.”

“It will be,” Kenning assured him, reaching to put an arm over Jaqen’s shoulders only to have the assassin sidestep the embrace. As he lowed his arm back to his side with burning cheeks Kenning kept speaking. “She is going to die, just as we want. All I’m asking for a little more time.”

“I’ve been patient enough.”

“In a few days. I’ll be King and she’ll be dead,” he said striking his captive in the back of the head and knocking her to her knees. “And you’ll have a friend sitting on the Iron Throne.”

“Five days,” he stated, holding up his hand with all the fingers spread to emphasize his point. “Then she dies, and anyone else who tries to stop me.”

R-C

Tyrion, Daenerys and Missandei walked along the shore. Waves crashed near their feet, the wind blew in off the water, disheveling their thin clothes. Above them were two cliffs that faced one another. One was lined with her archers, the other Kenning’s. All eyes, and arrows were aimed down below at the meeting about to take place. 

When she saw him, she wanted to kill him immediately, but she reminded herself of what was at stake and swallowed her desire for blood. 

He approached with a wide smile, two advisors and three guards. This was more than they’d agreed upon but Daenerys wasn’t going to complain. Getting Arya back was the only thing that mattered now. She’d even swallow her pride if she had to, and she suspected it would be required, several times over. 

“Your Grace, lovely to see you again,” he said as he pulled her into a hug. As they separated his eyes drifted up to the line of archers. “Shame it had to be like this though.”

“Lord Kenning,” she answered. Like him she looked to the soldiers. “They are only temporary. Once we’re married, your army will be my army and vice versa. You needn’t be concerned. I assure your safety and that of your family while you’re inside the Red Keep, no one will harm you there.”

With a smug smirk, as though he’d already won, Kenning nodded. “I am pleased to hear that,” he said. When he took her hand she didn’t refuse, but it repulsed her. “Come then, we have much to discuss.” Snapping his fingers, he called forth his guards. “Take the dwarf and go. Tell my siblings, I am well.”

Daenerys had tolerated everything he’d said and done with a smile, but no more. She wasn’t letting them take Tyrion as leverage until she saw what she was promised. “Wait!” she called, as confidently as if the troops she was commanding were hers.

Kenning looked amused and raised an eyebrow. “Something the matter?”

“Our bargain was for Arya Stark. I do not see her. These negotiations will go no further until I see that she is well.”

Kenning rolled his eyes and gave Daenerys an indulgent smile as if she were too stupid to understand the details of such things. “Let’s return to the keep,” he suggested, “it will be more comfortable to speak there.” When Daenerys’s posture didn’t soften he added, “I’ll have one of my men bring the Stark.”

Before she could be led away, Daenerys made another point. “You will treat Tyrion fairly and kindly. Any one who harms him while he stays as your guest will not live long enough to see their new King.”

“Don’t worry, your Grace. My lads are too tired to cause the Lannister much trouble, the Stark has been keeping them plenty busy. Consider it my first wedding present to you.”

She wanted to ask questions, to demand answers, and to see Arya, but she knew she couldn’t, not yet anyway. Kenning was already so confident, talking down to her, dismissing her ideas. He was going to be a terrible husband but Daenerys looked forward to educating him about his foreign wife. 

“Avoid him, the Gods know I sometimes do. Ignore him if you must, but no one is to touch him.”

He gave a throaty laugh. “Just what ever humble dwarf hopes to hear a beautiful Queen say about them. Remember my statue Daenerys.”

 

R-C

“Was it really necessary for you to march your army to the edge of my borders?” he asked as they strolled through the keep. Kenning was clutching her arm while Missandei walked a respectful distance behind. 

“I didn’t know what would be necessary,” she stated simply. “You had played a role in kidnapping my daughter and were holding someone dear to me. I hoped violence wouldn’t be needed, but a good Queen has to be prepared.”

Again, he looked to her as if she were too ignorant to fully understand. “Yes, you must be prepared, but I do hope you didn’t think you were being subtle. Thousands of Unsullied marching through the West is bound to get people’s notice.” 

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle,” she promised. 

“What will you do with those troops now?”

She forced a smile. “Should today’s negotiations go well I will send word to my commander tonight. He’ll begin leading them home right away.”

“The people of the West would appreciate not having foreigners on their land.”

She tried to think of something to say, but each potential reply was more vile and hate filled than the last. After a short quiet Kenning asked, “Where is your daughter? Last time I was here we could barely hold a conversation without her running up and getting in the way.”

“She was never in the way,” Daenerys insisted. 

“Yes, well once I am King of the Seven Kingdoms you’ll have much more time to tend to womanly matters.”

“Womanly matters?” she repeated back. 

“Yes, you know caring for Amara, raising our children, managing the keep, those sorts of things.”

She wanted to hit him, but never more than after his next comment. “It’s a shame poor little Amara will never be Queen.”

“Excuse me?” Daenerys snapped, forgetting the role she needed to play. 

‘I’m sorry Daenerys,” he said in an attempt to placate her anger. “I know this is new to you, but in Westeros, a fatherless girl can’t rule, while my blood, my sons and daughters stand in the background. I won’t allow it.”

“Yes, well I’m not sure if I want other children. Amara may be all the Gods see fit to grant me,” Daenerys said thinking that it was the Gods and Arya Stark who truly gave her Amara. 

“You will give me one child at least, hopefully more. Amara can remain in the family of course, at least until she’s older and then we can foster her out to another house.”

“No one will be raising my daughter but me. If and when I decide to bare more children, the choice will be mine…”

“And that of your husband,” he pointed out. “Where is Little Amara?”

“She’s visiting friends,” Daenerys said vaguely. “I didn’t think it’d do her any good to see the man who kidnapped her walking around her home.”

He laughed humorlessly. “Still holding a grudge about that huh? It wasn’t my idea. Blame your brother, Viserys came up with it and the assassin helped. I just did what they asked of me.”

“How noble,” she spat sarcastically. 

“I just wanted you to understand Daenerys. I tried to explain it to you when I visited, but you refused to listen. Westeros is different. I meant Amara no harm, and she was returned to you well, wasn’t she?”

“She was.”

“Exactly. I could have harmed her, or ordered others to, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to cause you pain Daenerys, I only wished to show you the dangers lurking around every corner,” he said, speaking like a wise grandfather and not a child kidnapper. 

“I learned my lesson,” Daenerys vowed. “That’s why I’ll marry you to ensure that no one I care about is harmed, or put in danger again.”

“Smart choice, you won’t regret it.” 

Their conversation shifted to life in the West and if Kenning was going to miss it when he relocated to King’s Landing. The knock at the door brought two Dothraki and one of Kenning’s men, along with the woman she’d been dying to see. Arya was naked, sickly thin and filthy, covered in all manner of grime and dirt. Her scarred body was matted with dried blood, her hair was more red than brown and Daenerys saw bruises and scars that were obviously fresh. She looked horrible and beautiful and so very much alive. 

Forgetting Kenning she ran to Arya and jumped into her arms. The usually nimble assassin made no move to catch her. The only reaction she got was a whimper from between closed, cracked lips. She threw herself back to give Arya some space while she worked to catch her eye. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m just so glad to see you. Are you alright?” 

It was a stupid question, she knew, but what else could she ask? One look at Arya made it clear she was not alright and that she’d been through Hell since Daenerys and Amara escaped. Tilting her head to the side Arya gave the Queen a tiny fraction of a smile. Her lips opened but before she could speak, she closed them again, the smile gone, replaced by something rougher. 

“Are you okay?” she asked again. When the answer wasn’t provided with haste she turned to Kenning. “What is wrong with her? Why won’t she talk and whose blood is that? Is it hers?”

Kenning laughed at his soon-to-be wife. “She’s fine, your Grace. Alive, just as I promised. Now let’s talk about the wedding.”

She ignored his request. With a gentle touch, she put her hand on Arya’s bruised jaw. She pulled away from the contact but Daenerys persisted. “Please.”

Closing her vacant eyes Daenerys applied the slightest pressure and urged Arya’s mouth open. Inside she was relieved to find the tongue still in place. But if Kenning hadn’t removed her tongue when why couldn’t she speak. 

“She’s alive, your Grace but I doubt she’ll be very talkative in the years to come,” Kenning mocked as Daenerys fretted over her lover. 

“What did you do?” she seethed, barely controlling her fury. 

“I didn’t do anything, but Arya here constantly fell from a tree we have in Kayce, a tall one, with nothing but a rope to catch her,” he said, stopping midway through to laugh at his own jest. 

It was a riddle, one she didn’t understand, until she did. Being ignorant was far better. “You hung her?” She didn’t see them at first, under the dirt, but the bruises around her neck were the thickest of the bunch. She could see the different colors, piled one on top of the next, each one fresher until the top layer of exposed flesh that was torn with rope burn and weeping the occasional drop of blood.

“Every morning,” he declared happily, “rain or shine.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Arya tense and she knew she shouldn’t make her listen to this. “Missandei, will you please escort Arya to her room and call for the Maester? Please see to her needs, whatever she needs.”

“Of course, your Grace.”

Missandei approached Arya carefully, avoiding sudden movements. She held out her hand, palm up and after three seconds that were physically painful for Daenerys, Arya took her hand and went with Missandei. 

When Arya and Missandei were out of hearing range Daenerys restarted the conversation. “What of the blood?”

He offered only a shrug. “It was a long journey, the boys needed something to occupy their time. Some chose to throw rocks and things at her as she was pulled by the cart, they made a game of it, as I understand.”

“And the others?”

He laughed again, a sound she was beginning to hate. “Well some of the lads preferred to visit her at night, you know, after we made camp. They’re a long way from their wives and mistresses, your Grace.”

She was horrified. “You raped her! Even after I offered marriage, even after you knew she was important to me?” Acting as if she was fine was no longer possible, each word raised her volume and every second he didn’t justify himself made her want to hit him, again and again until he did. Nothing he said would be sufficient, but she would have appreciated an attempt. 

“Of course not,” he disagreed, looking at her in a way she can only assume was meant to be charming. “I would never, I’m saving myself for marriage. My men though, they weren’t born with my high moral standards.”

“You still should have stopped it. If for no other reason…”

“It’s done Daenerys. It’s in the past. Besides I doubt anyone stole the Stark’s virtue, the first lot who tried, she killed. She snapped one man’s neck while she still wore chains and she bit through another’s throat, as though it were a pig’s leg. I guess she just prefers sleeping alone,” he said with a bitter, sickening chuckle. 

“That is wholly unacceptable,” Daenerys complained. 

“There is nothing we can do about it now. Now we need to focus on the future, our future, and the bond between the Targaryens and the Kennings. 

R-C

She was acutely aware of all the reasons she should be anywhere else, but she couldn’t help it. Amara was safe, and she’d just come from checking on Tyrion. After a day as a ‘guest’ of her future husband the Lannister complained about the poor selection of wine during his captivity but was otherwise unharmed. 

While she and James spoke of their upcoming wedding, Missandei snuck in with updates from the Maester, updates concerning Arya. According to the translator, once she was cleaned, dressed and fed Arya looked remarkably better. Her injuries were severe, but not life threatening. The Maester predicted she would heal fully, the only uncertainty being her throat. After being hung repeatedly, it was a question for the Gods if she would ever speak again. 

Daenerys couldn’t imagine never hearing that voice again. To never hear the gruff tone she reserved for when she was telling Daenerys something she thought the older woman should already know, or the way her voice would soften when she addressed Amara, to never hear her lover moan her name again. It was just unfathomable. 

Without concern for the consequences if she were caught, she crawled into the bed next to Arya and propped herself up on an elbow, looking down at the damaged woman. She spoke in a whisper, one that would barely reach Arya’s ears if she were awake. She didn’t need the Northern woman to hear anything she was about to say, but she definitely needed to say it nonetheless. 

“In all the years I’ve been Queen, I have never questioned myself, or doubted my decision as much as I did in the days after I left you in Kayce.” She sighed and took Arya’s limp hand in hers. “I hated myself for leaving you, even though I knew it was the right thing for Amara, it felt so, so wrong. Ever since I’ve been replaying the things you said in my mind,” she chuckled lightly as tears swelled in her violet eyes. “Well actually I was just thinking about one thing you said. Before we left you said, ‘I love you both.’” For the first time Daenerys uttered the words that had been taunting her for weeks. “I know you meant Amara more than me of course, but you love me?” She paused as if she expected her unconscious audience to respond. “I hope you love me Arya Stark because I love you and Amara loves you and we both need you to be okay. We can’t do this without you.” 

With a soft touch, she traced the shapes of the bruises that lined her neck. With each discovered detail, she wanted to march downstairs and cut Kenning’s throat, but Tyrion’s life depended on her remaining in control. More than an hour later, she was still letting her finger wander against the bruises. Arya started to stir and Daenerys immediately began trying to sooth her as she did with Amara. When that didn’t work she set her lips against her lover’s ear and whispered to her again. “Shhh,” she purred. “Just listen to my voice Arya, I know you can hear me. Whatever you’re seeing, whatever is happening right now, it’s not real. Amara and I are safe, you’re safe and everything is going to be okay.”

If anyone asked, she would have admitted it was a long shot at best, but to Daenerys’s and the Maester’s surprise Arya began to settle. The Maester had come when he heard Arya thrashing and was unprepared to find the Queen in his chambers. 

“How is she?” she asked, getting up from the bed. She’d heard from Missandei already, but hearing it from the professional would make her feel better. 

“Well as you can see your Grace,” the Maester began, “the damage was extensive. She’ll have scars, especially around her throat… not that she doesn’t already have plenty.”

“I don’t give a damn about her scars!” Daenerys shouted, startling the old, rambling man. “Is she going to survive?”

“Survive, yo… your Grace?” He took a moment to look at his patient. “Oh yes, of course she’ll survive. The wounds to her neck may keep her mute, but she’ll live.”

Daenerys worked to soften her voice. “Thank you Maester. Please see that Arya has everything she needs, no matter what and when she wakes, please send for me at once.”

R-C

Just minutes after leaving Arya and the Maester Daenerys was outside of Jorah’s bedchamber. She knocked without concern for the late hour. She heard him in the darkness, bumping into things and cursing as he approached the door. When it was open he was standing nearly naked, with only a thin towel around his waist. The towel didn’t reach all the way, forcing Jorah to hold it closed with one hand. He looked annoyed until he recognized who was calling upon him. “Khaleesi, please come in.”

“Ser, I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I have a request that couldn’t wait until morning.”

“Of course. What do you need? Please, come inside,” he invited again. 

“I can’t stay, as I said it’s much too late. In the morning, after breakfast I want you to escort Lord Kenning alone, down to the dungeon. Viserys and I will be waiting.” 

“Are you sure that’s wise Khaleesi?” he asked, letting the towel slip slightly as she tried to look into his face and nowhere else. “Angering Lord Kenning now might prove…”

“Did you see what they did to Arya?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Jorah didn’t care enough about Arya to check on her, let alone inquire as to the state of her injuries. “He was an animal.”

“Just as Arya was when she questioned Viserys no doubt,” he clarified, looking rather pleased with himself. 

It was too late for any debates about the right and wrong time to torture someone. “Just make sure Kenning is in the dungeon after he wakes.”

“To what end? Be smart Daenerys, please!”

“He’s proven he can be ruthless and brutal, now my husband needs to learn I too can be those things.”

R-C

Daenerys hadn’t been down to check on her brother since she returned from Kayce. He was living on borrowed time, she knew this, and she suspected he did too, but her focus had been on Arya and Amara and little else, granting him a slight reprieve. 

He was hanging upside down, bleeding from a small wound across the back of his ankle. The drip of the blood was slow, one drop, every few seconds, but the sound of it hitting the stone was rhythmic and practically magical. 

She ordered him released and before he was again upright he was already thanking her. “Oh Sister, you’ve finally come down to check on me eh? Thank you, these savages you employ didn’t listen when I tried to explain things. I told you where Amara was. I did as you asked. You should release me. You gave me your word!”

“I did no such thing. I told you I’d consider it, and I’m still considering it, but you did conspire to kidnap my daughter, kill thousands of my people and steal my throne.”

“Daenerys,” he implored. 

“Today is not about that. Today I’m here because as one of my few remaining family members I thought you should know I’m going to be wed this week. After the celebration, I’ll decide what to do with you.”

He scoffed. “Married? You can’t be serious, not that Northern girl? By the Gods Daenerys, don’t embarrass yourself.”

Right on schedule Jorah escorted Kenning down the steps and into view. “This Viserys is Lord Kenning of Kayce, the man I intend to marry.” She looked between the two men and smirked, “I believe you two know each other rather well, isn’t that true?”

“Well…” Viserys stammered. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” James added. 

“Viserys stayed at your home didn’t he Lord Kenning? Before he rode to King’s Landing to try and take my throne?”

“The throne is mine! I’m the rightful King.”

With a guttural shift in her voice she addressed the Dothraki in their native tongue. With grim smiles, two men approached the cell where Viserys waited helplessly. “W…wait Daenerys, what did you say? What are they doing?”

On an unremarkable table were a collection of bloodstained tools, Daenerys went over and picked up a small, heavy hammer. She carried it back to the Dothraki and handed it to one of them. “Seven Hells Daenerys, he’s your brother, what are you doing?” Kenning questioned. 

“I told them to break his legs,” she admitted loud enough for the whole room to hear. 

“Sister, no, sister!” Viserys shouted, before his words faded and became an incomprehensible shriek of agony, mixed in with the hammer’s dull thuds. 

When it was done she led Lord Kenning up the staircase. He was pale and had vomited his breakfast onto the dungeon floor. “Why did you do that? He is your family!”

“He plotted to have my daughter kidnapped and conspired to take my place on the throne. Tell me Lord Kenning, when you’re King how would you handle such threats?” 

He studied her face without comment for nearly a minute. “This was meant to intimidate me? I still hold the dwarf. What hope of ruling Westeros would you have without him?” 

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“I told you yesterday Daenerys, you need to let go of the past. What happened with Amara is unfortunate, but she is safe and back with you, here. You’re just days away from strengthening your base of power, and the whole of the Realm. There is no need for meaningless, petty shows of control.”

He gave her that condescending look again and she wondered how badly Tyrion would haunt her if she killed Kenning and allowed him to be murdered in response. It almost seemed worth the risk. 

“It is not petty and it wasn’t meant to intimidate you,” she informed him. “You had Arya Stark and as such, a way to bargain with me. Viserys has nothing I want or need and as a result has no way to sway me as you have.”

“So, we agree then, you’ll leave this kidnapping business where it belongs?” he verified. 

Mimicking his words from earlier she gave him her best smile. “Of course. Consider it my first wedding present to you.” She nearly choked on the words, but if his broad smile was any indication, Kenning didn’t notice. 

R-C

“What are you wearing?” he asked the next morning. Daenerys was dressed as the Khaleesi she once was. Her long hair was braided but tied back away from her face and she had traded her silks for worn, dusty leather. It smelled of a life long past, but it made her smile. 

“With the Unsullied returning from the West, I have only the Dothraki here to protect me. I honor them by wearing traditionally Dothraki clothes. This reminds them I’m their Khaleesi, as much as I’m a Queen.” 

When she could see James didn’t understand she took the opportunity to toy with him a little. “Do you like them?” she asked. “I could have some made for you. I could show your servants how to braid your hair like theirs as well.”

He coughed and turned away from Daenerys as he attempted to recover without drawing attention to himself. “T…that is … un…very kind, but unnecessary. I think I’ll stick to my clothes thanks.” 

“As you wish,” she said as she bit back a smile. 

“I think you should as well,” Kenning commented, lowering his voice as though he were afraid the Dothraki might overhear him. 

“What was that?” she pressed, although she heard him perfectly. 

“I… I’m just saying, I think you should wear dresses instead. This is Westeros.”

“I think you might be right,” she allowed. 

“You do?” 

She smiled and popped up to kiss his cheek, the first time she initiated any sort of physical contact between them. “Of course. Soon you’ll be my husband. What kind of wife would I be, if I didn’t take your wishes into consideration?”

R-C

In the middle of a marathon of wedding planning Missandei mercifully appeared with an excuse for her to leave. Once Kenning was a sufficient distance away, her advisor told her the real news; Arya was awake. 

She took the stairs two at a time and got to the Maester just as he was attempting to physically keep Arya in bed. Daenerys put herself between the assassin and the healer, not knowing which one she was truly saving. “Just rest,” she pleaded, putting her hand against Arya’s cheek. “Lie back, I’m here.”

While Daenerys sat there, staring at the woman she loved, she saw her lips move. For an instant, she hoped sound would follow but nothing more than a gurgle escaped. Arya’s frustration was obvious, so Daenerys called for the Maester and demanded one of his notebooks. Reluctantly he brought her a leather-bound book with dozens of crisp, unused pages. 

While she looked around for a quill she explained her actions. “You can write down what you want to say, until your voice comes back.”

Sitting on the side of the bed she felt untameable excitement as she watched Arya’s hand blur on the page. She was going to hear from her lover again, maybe not in her voice, but from her just the same. 

When Arya handed over the book, Daenerys wasn’t sure what to expect. She should have known the first questions wouldn’t be about her health at all. 

Where is Amara? Are you two alright?

Daenerys handed the book back and gave Arya a soft smile. “We are fine. When your sister heard Amara was kidnapped, she sent a vanguard of soldiers to keep her safe. Amara is thrilled to get the chance to pretend to be a Northern warrior.”

Sansa?

“Your sister is well,” Daenerys assured. “She was worried about Amara and I, that must be in the blood with you Starks huh?” Before she returned to her book Daenerys bent down and kissed her lips. She was pleased when Arya didn’t pull away, but more than a little disappointed she didn’t kiss back either. 

Amara?

Amara is fine, I promise. She’s likely trying to teach your sister Dothraki while she mixes up the words with Valyrian.

She’s adorable.

“Yes, she is,” Daenerys agreed, “just like her mother. And she can’t wait to see you.”

Based on the speed with which her hand moved and the force she exerted to write Daenerys knew she wasn’t going to like what she read next. 

She can’t see me like this. NEVER Daenerys!

Taking the book and setting it on the table where Arya could still reach it, Daenerys moved until she was almost in the other woman’s lap. She cradled her bruised and cut face gently. “Amara doesn’t care about any of this,” she said, skimming her finger around a nasty gash over her left eye. When Arya’s response was to tense, Daenerys tried again, softer this time. “I don’t care about any of this,” she said. “I thought you were beautiful the first time I saw you, I thought it again when you brought Amara to me and I’ve thought it nearly every day since. I see who you really are Arya Stark, not that cynical bitter grouch you show the world, but the sweet, tender woman who explains things patiently to Amara for the third time, who spoils her, praises her and teaches her how to be a good person. That’s the Arya I know, that’s the Arya I love. That’s the Arya Amara is waiting for.”

I can’t. Please tell her I’m sorry.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed, but Arya had been through a lot, too much probably, and she deserved time to herself, a chance to recover before she was forced to be her old self again. 

“You rest, the Maester says you’re going to recover and he’s even hopeful you’ll get your voice back. Just rest for now,” she said, “and when you’re ready Amara and I will be waiting for you.”

She didn’t move for a long time and Daenerys began to wonder if she’d fallen asleep. Finally, she reached out and turned the page in her book. On a fresh page, in big block letters Arya wrote;

Doubt your husband would approve of that, your Grace.

Daenerys sighed. She hadn’t mentioned Kenning and their wedding because she didn’t know how much Arya already knew. She didn’t want to burden her unnecessarily. She should have guessed it was too much to ask for a little discretion. Kenning likely told her the minute he received the raven, eager to rub her face in it. Another thought occurred to her and it only made her unpredictable emotions worse. All those days Kenning had ignored her offer, had he waited so he could prolong Arya’s torture? 

“I agreed to his terms to ensure you were released. Now that we’re negotiating, nothing else is guaranteed.” This was a lie and she knew Arya would see right through it, but she had to try. 

Fuck that! He came here for a wedding, a throne and nothing else.

She couldn’t help but laugh as she read that. She could hear the words in her mind, in Arya’s voice. She wrote the same way she spoke, and Daenerys wouldn’t have it any other way. “Contrary to what Lord Kenning believes, not even he will get everything he wants.”

Daenerys had been trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work. Another new page, had a one word question; 

When?

“The wedding is in two days,” she confessed, looking away from Arya’s eyes. 

I’ll go!

By the time Daenerys had finished reading the final entry, Arya was already attempting to stand. Daenerys used her body to hold her in place and then pressed their lips together with as much passion as she could. “Damn it Arya,” she complained as she gasped for air. “You aren’t going anywhere. Amara and I have spent enough time without you.” After another kiss and another, Arya seemed to calm, no longer trying to flee from Daenerys’s touch. “You can trust me Arya, I need you to trust me. Everything is going to be fine.”

She didn’t know if Arya believed it as she did but Daenerys hoped so. At the very least she took comfort from the fact that Arya didn’t object to her company. Instead the sat together on the bed, holding one another until both of them were asleep. 

R-C

As she ate lunch with her future husband, he held her hand on top of the table. Emboldened by the fact that she hadn’t yet killed him, he also began kissing her whenever the mood struck him. Often, he did so with others present, likely so Daenerys would be less likely to reprimand him. While she didn’t outwardly oppose the affection, she didn’t encourage it either. She hoped her chilled demeanor would provide Kenning with a clue, but he remained oblivious. 

“Everything’s almost ready,” Kenning commented, while his servant nodded over his shoulder. 

“Yes m’lord, all the details are nearly finalized. Only the location and the guest list need to be verified.”

Although she’d been uninterested and nearly silent on the subject of the wedding Daenerys chose now to become involved. “I have some opinions on those matters James.”

“You do?” he asked in surprise, a sentiment echoed by the servant holding his notes. 

She laid her free hand over his, trapping it between both of hers. “I’ve always wanted to get married near the water. I spent some time in Braavos as a girl and I always loved the way the light would shine on the water at midday.”

“Well, Braavos is a little far don’t you think honey?”

She laughed and giggled as though she never had an original thought in her head. “Of course, I only mean we could get married near the water here, couldn’t we? Near the Blackwater maybe?”

“If you like. Anything else my dear?”

“Well, its not much, but I was hoping we could keep the wedding small. I don’t have any family, so I’d really rather avoid the big celebration.”

“We need a big wedding!” Kenning decreed. “How else will the people of the Seven Kingdoms know they have a new King?”

“We could have a feast, a big one, to honor you, I only meant to say a small ceremony is more private, more intimate.”

Another charming smile that nearly made her gag and she knew she was winning him over. Time for her to give a little. “I want your family there of course, your brothers and sisters, and I’ll have a few friends on my side in place of my family.”

“Perhaps you should consider releasing your brother. I’ll admit I didn’t know him well, but he didn’t seem entirely bad.”

“Wise advice. You’ve given me much consider. 

 

R-C

The knock on her door startled her but Daenerys was pleasantly surprised when she found Missandei on the other side, holding an unopened bottle of wine. “I’m told women are nervous the night before their wedding,” she said as she poured them each a glass. 

“I’ve done this before Missandei,” she reminded her. “I was nervous then, but tonight, not so much.” 

“You aren’t worried then?”

“I am worried,” she corrected, taking a long drink. “I’ll worry until Tyrion is back here safely, I’ll worry until Amara grows and then I’ll worry some more and I’ll definitely worry until Arya recovers.”

“I hear the Maester has her performing exercises to strengthen the muscles in her throat. He claims it will help her to speak again.”

“I don’t care if she carries that book around for the rest of her life,” Daenerys said honestly, “I just want her to be happy.” After another sip of wine Daenerys confessed what Missandei already knew. “Gods, I miss Amara.”

From the front of her dress Missandei pulled out a small scroll from a raven. “Amara and Lady Stark sent this, it arrived just minutes ago.”

Even with well ingrained manners Daenerys wanted to snatch the paper from Missandei’s hands. She didn’t, taking it politely instead. As she unrolled it she was rewarded with a hand drawn picture. One of the figures was clearly Amara and standing next to her, Daenerys assumed was Sansa given the long streaks of red hair drawn on top of her head. Underneath the picture was Amara’s name. It was written in such a way, unsteady and tentative that it took Daenerys’s breath away. She understood at once, her daughter had written that. 

On the back of the page she found a note from Sansa. 

Your Grace,

All is well here. Amara fits in flawlessly among my men and when she isn’t telling them stories that keep them from their work, she is with me, practicing her letters and drawing pictures that I can bring back to Winterfell with me. 

I know you must be busy, and I apologize if this is an interruption but once Amara had practiced writing her name several times she wanted to show you what she’d learned. I sent the raven at once. 

Looking forward to that visit soon. Please give Arya my love if you see her. 

Sansa Stark – Lady of Winterfell and Queen in the North

“Bad news?” Missandei asked nervously. 

Daenerys swatted at the tears in her eyes as she held out the paper as though it were the most fragile thing she’d ever touched. “Amara can write her name. Sansa taught her. She drew a picture and signed the bottom.”

“She’s smart. She must get that from you, I doubt she picked it up from Tyrion, Jorah, Grey Worm or I.”

With a laugh, she refilled her glass and then swallowed it all in a single gulp. “I’m not that smart. I’m the one getting married tomorrow.”

Missandei held up her glass. “Tomorrow but not tonight. Tonight, you’re still single, and free.”

The words hit her like a punch. That was true. Tomorrow she’d be married, but she wasn’t yet. Daenerys leapt from the chair she’d been occupying. “You’re right. Missandei you’re a genius.” 

She stood next to the Queen. “I am?” When Daenerys made it clear she intended to leave Missandei rushed to meet her at the door. “Your Grace, where are you going?”

“It’s as you said,” Daenerys explained, “tonight I’m still single and free. Tomorrow I’ll be married, but tonight I’m not.”

It was clear Missandei still didn’t understand. “Yes, that’s right.” When Daenerys opened the door Missandei went out into the hall after her. “Where are you going?”

Looking over her shoulder she gave her friend an unrepentant smile. “If I have to marry a man I hate in the morning, then I’m going to spend tonight with the woman I love.” 

R-C

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry for this one. I intended to get the wedding into this chapter too, but there was just so many other pieces that had to come first. 
> 
> One more chapter should do it. I hope you all stick around to see the ending. Thank you to those of you who have read and commented along the way. I appreciate it. 
> 
> RC


	16. Chapter 16

On the morning of her wedding Missandei found Daenerys awake in Arya’s bed. Tangled in a mess of limbs she had a clear view of the damage Kenning inflicted. In the days they’d had her back, she’d already begun to regain weight, the bruises had faded slightly and most importantly Arya didn’t pull away from her touch anymore. She rarely tensed when Daenerys couldn’t resist and kissed her, and she didn’t push her away when the Queen needed to be close. 

She finished her message to the woman she loved and earmarked the page. Looking at the sleeping woman Daenerys smiled. She really was stunning, even if she did need a haircut. Smooth fingers slipped into that hair and she could only shake her head. “I love you Arya,” she whispered, hoping the message reached her in her dream. “Nothing that happens today will change that.”

“Have a pleasant night, your Grace?” Missandei teased as they snuck their way through the keep, toward the room where Daenerys was supposed to have spent the night. 

Like the woman in love she was, Daenerys immediately gushed to her best friend. “You have no idea. Even with that notebook she still manages to say the most romantic things.”

“Romantic?” the translator challenged, testing the word on her tongue. “Are we speaking of the same girl.”

With a gentle laugh Daenerys slapped Missandei’s upper arm. “We are and you know it. When it’s just her and I, it’s as if she’s a different person. The compliments are there you just need to look a little deeper to find them.”

“I believe it,” Missandei acknowledged. “I see the change when she’s with Amara.

Daenerys was quick to agree. “You see it too then, how cute they are together? Arya isn’t nearly as scary as she seems at first.”

With a laugh, Missandei pushed her friend into her bedchamber. “Maybe not to you, your Grace, but the rest of us remain terrified. Most of the time when she looks at me I’m certain Arya has decided to kill me and is just waiting for the right time to strike, other times I see her looking around the keep, as if she is searching for a proper place to dispose of my corpse.” 

R-C

Daenerys stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the three-headed dragon she wore around her neck. The gold was perfect in its craftmanship, the three heads staggering down her throat, while the beast’s tail disappeared between her breasts and down the front of her silver dress. 

The dress wasn’t ugly, in fact she would have liked it, had James not picked it out. It wouldn’t have been her first choice, had this been a real wedding, but without feelings to get in the way, she found herself accommodating his whims. 

“You look beautiful,” Missandei said as she prepared to braid Daenerys’s hair. 

“I should have dressed as a Khaleesi,” she remarked snidely. “He hates that.”

Missandei laughed. “Knowing what he hates means you already know the important bits. Most wives must take months or years to learn these things. You’re so much further ahead.”

She knew she should have laughed, Missandei was trying to put a bright face on a bad situation, but Daenerys felt suddenly serious. “You know Missandei, just once I’d like to get married for love and no other reason.”

“You think you’ll get married again?” she asked, her delivery betraying her nervousness as her fingers expertly weaved the hair together. 

“I hope so, if she’ll have me after this.”

Always the loyal friend, Missandei was quick to reassure. “She’d be a fool to let you pass.”

“I am marrying the man who tortured her.”

“Yes, but after today, Tyrion and Amara can come home and things can return to normal.”

Normal, she wondered what that would be like.

R-C

Not surprisingly, she woke to the bed half empty. The pillow where Daenerys had rested her head still smelled of her expensive foreign perfume. She’d been all over the Free Cities and could never find a merchant who sold it. Still, Daenerys seemed to have it constant supply. 

The night before had been unexpected and pleasant. While they initially fought, Arya in writing and Daenerys with heated words about the wedding, before long Arya reluctantly backed down. She didn’t want Daenerys to get married to anyone, certainly not to save her, but she could tell the Queen was determined, and their time together was short. If it was going to be the last night she ever got with her Dragon she wasn’t going to waste it arguing over something she couldn’t change. 

Now she was alone. She flipped back through the pages of the book she used to communicate, smiling as she remembered the conversations. 

Her finger rubbed the corner of the page and her eyes followed the route. With a quick turn of the page she recognized Daenerys’s handwriting at once, so elegant and powerful, it could belong to no other. 

Arya,

I can only imagine what you’re going through. I know that if it were you getting married while I watched, I’d likely be on Drogon’s back, leading a bloody massacre. 

I know you disagree with my decision but that’s because you don’t realize how important you are to Amara and I. We need you Arya, I need you, and not just to help me raise our daughter, but to be beside me in the years to come. 

I may marry Lord Kenning and tolerate him for as long as necessary but my heart remains with you. Please trust me. I know what I’m doing. Amara will be back in time for dinner, consider joining us. 

All My Love,

Daenerys

She wasn’t quite sure how to feel. On one hand that was a declaration of love if she’d ever seen one, and what more could a woman want from any lover, especially one as incredible as Daenerys. On the other hand, it asked her for trust, and that had never been her strength. 

She made a rash decision then. Swinging her legs off the bed she grunted and forced her tired, aching bones to sit. If Daenerys was getting married, then she was going to be there to see it. She wasn’t going to hide with the Maester and pretend it wasn’t happening. That wasn’t her style. No, she’d march straight to the front row and find herself a seat. 

Every movement made her feel both helpless and weak. Even a task as simple as filling the bath required multiple rest periods. As she scrubbed away at the near permanent dirt, buried in her skin, she passed over scars, old and new alike. She wondered what Daenerys could possibly see in her, what she could love? Although the assassin thought otherwise, Daenerys called her beautiful. She said it so sincerely, and with so much reverence that it almost made the Northerner a believer. 

She was still in the bath when Missandei came in to check on her. Her mouth gaped like a fish out of water and she shrieked before she turned around. “Arya, what are you doing?”

As she tried to laugh, the movement of her muscles burned her throat, but she did her best to ignore it. Using a towel to dry her hands she reached for the notebook that was never too far and answered the advisor’s question with one of her own. Standing up she nudged Missandei’s shoulder with the corner of the book. 

Keeping her dark eyes down she saw the writing and gasped. “Oh, oh of course.” She opened it, and with the mute’s help found the right page. It said;

Taking a bath. Why aren’t you with Daenerys?

She chuckled lightly. “The Queen needed a moment to herself. She asked that I come check on you.”

Is she alright? 

Thrusting the book to Missandei the other woman read it without taking it from the killer. “She’s marrying a man she despises, she thinks the woman she loves will leave the second she’s wed and she’s terrified for her daughter.”

I told her not to. Not for me!

Missandei smiled and offered a hand to help her climb from the tub. “I know you did but Daenerys is stubborn and she loves you. Please don’t doubt that.”

Completely ignoring the fact that she was naked, dripping and disgusting she wrote a plea in big letters, hoping it would stress the importance of her request. 

Need your help!

“What do you require?”

She was immediately writing. 

Clothes for a wedding

R-C

The sun was high and bright as Daenerys peeked at the cliffs overlooking the bay. In an attempt to appease his soon-to-be wife, James agreed to her strange request. The ceremony would be close friends and family only and it would take place outside at midday. While this wasn’t the traditional way, Daenerys knew most viewed her as foreign already. This only further fueled the myth. 

“It’s time, your Grace,” Missandei told her. 

On their way outside Missandei steered her into a small, unused office. “Missandei what…”

“I have something for you,” she said in a rushed whisper. 

“Missandei this wedding isn’t real, you shouldn’t have…”

“It’s not from me,” she said in another flurry of words. From the front of her cream-colored dress, she pulled out a folded page. The messy scrawl took her mind back to the first note she got from Arya, asking what name she’d given their child. 

“Arya?” she confirmed as her unsteady hands went to work unfolding the page. It was clearly torn and hastily so from the notebook she’d been using. 

“I checked on her as you requested and she asked that I find a time when you were alone to give you a message from her.” Missandei smiled at Daenerys’s expression. “I didn’t think you’d mind.” 

She hugged her friend, crumpling the paper carelessly against Missandei’s shoulder. “I love you Missandei,” she said simply. “All you do for me, for Amara, I could never thank you enough.”

Looking at her shoes shyly, she was quick to joke. “Love, your Grace? I’m flattered but what would Arya and Grey Worm think?”

Daenerys couldn’t resist the chance to laugh for a few precious moments. “If you think Arya terrifies you now, imagine if she thought you were in love with me?” She laughed at the mental image and nearly fell over when she saw the horrified set of Missandei’s features. 

When the women quieted down, Daenerys turned her attention to the letter. 

Daenerys,

Thank you for your note. You look beautiful. Any man or woman would be lucky to call you ‘wife’. I know today isn’t what you want either. You don’t have to do this for me. I have no regrets and I’d never want you or Amara to suffer for me. 

Missandei seems certain that you want me to stay, so I will, if you’re sure. That is to say, I’ll try. I’ll stay for as long as I can stand it, until I have to choose between leaving and stabbing your husband in the heart. 

You aren’t alone in this, I will be here when you need me, but I’ll also go if that’s what you wish. I won’t make this harder on you than it has to be. 

A

“You convinced her to stay?” Daenerys said as she clutched the page to her chest. 

“I tried,” Missandei allowed. “I’m not certain how successful I was, she was mostly concerned about you.”

Picking up on another detail, she pivoted toward her friend. “She said I looked beautiful,” she remembered. “When did she see me? How?”

Missandei did her best to look innocent, a pose Daenerys recognized well. The advisor was nearly as good at it as Amara was. “There are no doubt dozens of hiding places she could spy you from, your Grace. Our route was rather exposed.”

They enjoyed the light moment for as long as they could. “The guests are waiting, your Grace,” she finally said. 

Folding up Arya’s letter and tucking it down the front of her dress, she shook her head. “It’s already midday. Can’t be late for my own wedding.”

R-C

The setting was nice, basic, just as she requested. Tall vases of bright flowers, vases taller than her lined both sides as she began her walk. Chairs were situated in tiers to ensure the guests could see everything. They had a great view overlooking the water, while the sun warmed everything. Daenerys and James would have their backs to the water, face their loved ones, and swear their vows before the High Septon and the Gods. 

Only a handful of Dothraki provided perimeter security around the ceremony. For every Dothraki, there were two of Kenning’s guards. The rest were situated around the beach, keeping the crowds away at Daenerys’s insistence. 

She needed only three chairs, for her guests. With Tyrion still being held to ensure Kenning’s safe return, and Missandei standing next to her, that left only Ser Jorah in the center, with Arya on one side and Viserys on the other. 

She had to admit, all three looked rather impressive. Viserys had been given clothes, fed and cleaned. Bandages covered sections of his face, hiding the damage done to him. With a little effort, she could remember the handsome boy who told her how he’d take her back to Westeros so they could reclaim all that was stolen from them. Jorah had strict instructions not to let Viserys from his sight and like all orders from Daenerys he took this one seriously. Dressed in his formal, plate armor, it is littered with dings and dents in all locations. He looked imposing and dangerous, if marginally old. But Arya was the surprise. Unlike Viserys she had no bandages on her face, leaving her bruises and stitches to the air. She looked rugged, with her scarred, rough hands. The clothes she wore were new, and well made, fitted black pants and a white shirt. The high collar hid the intense marks on her neck and Daenerys supposed that wasn’t by accident. The hair she’d been toying with hours earlier had clearly been washed and cut. 

When their eyes met, Daenerys could see the pain she desperately tried to hide. She thought of the letter and knew that Arya was doing this for her. She was willing to endure this, just so Daenerys had one more supporter in the crowd. It made her love Arya all the more. 

 

Lord Kenning had far more admirers and ass-kissers. Most of his siblings sat arranged by age, with their spouses and children. In addition, James invited two Lords from the West he was hoping to impress. They all wore the finest garments, the family marked by their sigil in one way or another, on a dresses sleeve, or boldly stated across the front of armor. The groom stood with two brothers at his side. He wore clothes not unlike Arya’s, only his didn’t appeal to Daenerys nearly as much. She had no desire to see what he hid underneath. The same could not be said, of her reaction to the Stark. His armor was shiny, flawless and clearly had never been worn in actual battle. On his shoulders, he wore a cape of sorts. Had it not been for Tyrion’s lessons of Westeros she might not have understood its significance. Truthfully, he might have been an appealing choice, if she wasn’t so damn revolted. 

 

“There you are,” Kenning said as he approached. With an attempt at humor that didn’t seem genuine, he added, “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.” 

“And reject your offer to be King, I’d be foolish indeed,” she countered sarcastically. 

Unsure of what to say, James took hold of her arm. “Yes, well come. Everyone is waiting.” 

Tilting her head back Daenerys looked up to the sun. “Is it midday yet?”

Kenning glanced at the sky for a moment and then continued trying to nudge Daenerys toward where the Septon waited. “Close enough.” 

“No,” she said as she resisted. “I need to be married at exactly midday, that’s the plan.”

James was clearly growing frustrated. “What plan? Have you been drinking?” He pushed her a little harder toward the edge of the cliff. “It’ll be midday by the time we get up there, Daenerys.”

She arrived at the front and smiled warmly at the holy man. She paused to kiss Missandei on the cheek, and whisper her thanks. For nearly ten minutes she listened to scripture and opinions about the purity of marriage, about the strength of a couple and the faith in the union. She waited until he was finished speaking before she addressed her soon-to-be husband. “Do you think it’s midday yet, dear?”

He growled in annoyance. “Yes, Daenerys, by the Gods, it’s midday. We can finally get married. Are you happy now?”

She flashed him a wicked smirk. “Yes, I am. I was getting tired of this charade.”

“Ch…”

With a Dothraki call for blood, she looked to her warriors. They didn’t disappoint, responding as was their nature. Outnumbered two to one by Kenning guards, each Blood Rider protecting the wedding, swung first, killing their targets before anyone realized what was happening. 

“Ser Jorah, restrain my brother and ensure he has an unobstructed view. I want him to see this.” 

As blood wet the ground James stumbled away from his would-be wife. “W… what is this? What are you doing? I still have the Imp, if I don’t return my men will kill him.”

“You said it’s midday, right?” she asked rhetorically. “That means that by now, a friend of mine has freed Tyrion, and they are likely on their way back here as we speak.”

“What friend?” he scoffed. “All your savages are here or holding the Keep, and your Unsullied are still marching back from the West. You don’t have enough men to mount a rescue.” 

She smiled as she watched his confidence wane. “True, but when Sansa Stark learned what you did to her sister, she sent Northern troops to help me ensure you were dealt with.” 

“You can’t do this!” he shouted as he looked around for help but finding friends in painfully short supply. The Lords he invited looked too stunned to get involved and the Dothraki had closed in around the Kenning family, ensuring they stayed in place. “I was to be King, that was our bargain. I gave you the Stark girl and you agreed we’d wed. I held up my end. If you don’t honor yours, the West will rise up. They will not stand for this. I’m their Lord. If you harm me, not only will Tyrion die, but you’ll lose the Westerlands.”

“Funny you should mention that,” she said as she peeked at the sun again. “By now, the Unsullied have taken Kayce, with the aid of my dragons. There will be no revolt in the West, because there will be no Kennings.”

He shook his head, dumbfounded. “They were never returning South. You left them there on purpose. So, you mean to kill us all then?” he asked with a nervous laugh, looking to his nearby family. 

She ignored his question. “Life is all about choices James,” she said as she walked to where Arya was and took her hand. Together they returned to the spot where she was supposed to be married, the spot where James stood. “You chose to kidnap my daughter, you chose to torture the woman I love, you chose to try and take my throne.”

“Love?” he spat. He looked at Arya with nothing short of contempt in his eyes. “She’s no more capable of loving you than she is of giving you a child. She’s an animal.”

Daenerys smiled and thought of Amara, squeezing Arya’s hand. “How many times did you hang her?” she asked the Kennings as a group. When the answer wasn’t forthcoming she approached a group of huddled women and picked the one who looked the most unnerved. “How many times was it?”

“F…five your Grace?” she answered, her fear making it seem like a question. 

Defiant Kenning scoffed, spitting in Arya’s direction before he corrected his sister-in-law. “More like ten, give or take, right Stark?” He laughed bitterly and Daenerys was delighted to finally be able to put an end to that sound. 

With her brother, the knight who loved her, some nobles, the entire Kenning flock and a man of God all watching Daenerys hiked up her dress, exposing her thigh to Arya and others. Strapped there was the dagger she’d once given Arya. She handed it over and nodded to the collection of siblings. “Take one finger from the hand of every adult,” she decided swiftly. She took a moment to enjoy the fear on the faces of the men and women who stood by and did nothing while Arya was tortured, but she saved the final jab for James. Looking to the man who was to be her husband she smiled deviously. “That should get us about ten right, give or take? What do you think dear?” she asked, knowing the count would be far higher. 

“You can’t do this!” Kenning cried, as his first sibling lost a digit. “You promised us safety. You must honor your word! We are civilized!” His words grew faster and needy with each new voice he heard screaming. 

“I promised you wouldn’t be harmed inside the Red Keep and I honored that pact. Every time I wanted to reach out and strangle you, or bury a sword into your stomach as you blathered on about this or that, I pictured this moment and how satisfying it would be.” 

Daenerys could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He glanced in the direction of the Keep and then around the cliff at the Dothraki. She leaned in close and whispered, “I’ll keep my word, if you can make it that far. You seem like you might be fast. Who knows, you could do it.”

Pale, James looked to her with a mix of fear and hate. “Why, why are you doing this?”

“You kidnapped my daughter!” she reminded him loudly. 

“I did as I was told. Take it up with him!” he said pointing to Viserys. 

“My brother will pay for his sins, as you will pay for yours Lord Kenning. You may have been following orders, but there are some things a mother can’t forgive.” 

“S…so you’re … you’re going to kill us all because I took your daughter. That’s madness Daenerys, surely you can see that.” 

“That would be madness,” she agreed. “No, I took Kayce from you because of what you did to Amara. What happens next is because of what you did to Arya.”

“The Stark?” he asked incredulously. “You can’t be serious!”

The screams where from where Arya was working got louder with each victim. “I love her in a way I didn’t think I was capable of anymore. She’s given me hope again, and a purpose. I could never repay her, but I’m going to try. She’s so hard to shop for though, I mean what do you get a woman like that?” Daenerys asked, pointing to her lover, who was busy removing fingers. “Other than a sharp blade and something to wash the blood from her hands, I mean.” 

“Stop this,” he begged, looking over to where his family bled. Half of them were bleeding and the other half were trying to subtly move to the back of the line as their turn approached. 

She acted as if she hadn’t heard him. “After I saw what you did to Arya I knew I needed to help. I needed to give her something, to remind her I love her, to reassure her I’m there for her. But like I said, she’s a tough one to surprise so I decided to get her the one thing I knew she’d want more than anything else. Revenge.” 

“Daenerys, your Grace, please. This has gone far enough.”

She enjoyed his pain more than she should have, but tried not to think about it. “Life is about choices, don’t you think?”

Kenning didn’t answer, so she pinned him with a hard stare that made it clear silence wasn’t acceptable. “I…I suppose.” 

“I think so too. Now you have a big one to make James. One that is going to alter the history of your family.”   
With one arm around Kenning’s shoulders she led him down to where Arya had massed a small collection of detached fingers. “Help us,” one brother pleaded. 

“Mercy, your Grace, mercy!”

“Please, let us go, in the name of the Gods.”

Missandei approached from behind Daenerys and stood proudly at her side. They whispered together privately until Missandei nodded and fell into her role. “The Queen is generous and has offered you a special ship from her fleet for your journey.”

“Journey, what journey?” Kenning asked for group as murmurs of the same question bounced around the bloodied. 

Daenerys held out a hand over the water and drew their attention to a small, wobbling vessel. The boat had seen better days, was warped and faded by the sun. The visible side had a large crack along the base. In perfect condition, the boat would hold only half of the gathered Kennings. It was going to be a cramped voyage. “Your days in Westeros have come to an end. If you remain I’ll have you hung at sunrise for crimes against the throne, or you can get on that boat and sail away.”

Kenning’s youngest brother looked at the boat and then the Queen. “Your Grace, you can’t mean that. That boat wouldn’t be fit for livestock.” 

“Perhaps not, but it’s all your getting.” She looked at the boat thoughtfully, “I personally don’t think you’ve got a prayer of crossing the Narrow Sea, but at least out there on the water you’ve got a chance. Staying here will mean certain death.” 

“We can negotiate. Surely, we can provide something you want,” Claudia offered. 

“All I want from you is your decision!” Daenerys snapped, ending the discussion 

R-C

When the Kennings and their bloody hands were making their way toward the Free Cities in that pathetic boat, Viserys began clapping as he laughed. “They didn’t tell me when they roused me from my cage that there would be entertainment. Daenerys this wedding of yours is wonderful, I approve.” 

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” she warned. “I haven’t forgotten about you.” 

“Sister, why ruin such a nice day with talk of such things. We’re family.”

Walking up to Arya she found the Northern woman staring at Kenning with hate. “Ready to finish this?” she asked. 

Making use of her notebook she asked the natural question. 

What?

“Revenge,” Daenerys promised. “Come.” Clutching Arya’s hand, she pulled her to the cliff where the Septon was still standing. Unsure of what he should do, or say, he remained unmoving and silent. One more witness to the grisly details of Daenerys’s latest wedding. 

Kenning was facing the water, watching his family and his future float away. “You have another choice to make James,” Daenerys told him as she locked her fingers to Arya’s. 

“What?!” Aren’t you done yet? Haven’t I been punished enough? You’ve taken my lands, you’ve exiled my family. It’s enough!”

“It’ll never be enough!” she countered, looking to Arya and knowing how true her words were. “Now I promised you a wedding and if you want one, you can have it. The Septon is here, a few guests remain. I gave you my word and so I will marry you, but if you make that choice, I’ll have one of my dragons burn that tiny boat to ash, killing your family. You’ll be King, just as you devised, but no one will ever know it. Your family will be dead and on the walk back to the keep, I’ll ask Arya here to push you off one of the cliffs, making your reign the shortest in the whole of history.”

“Or?” he questioned warily. 

“Or you can wisely realize we are a poor match, and in return your family gets to continue their voyage uninterrupted.”

“And what of me?”

“Lord Kenning, I know you said you didn’t know him well, but I think that’s about to change. You and Viserys are going to have plenty of time to get to know one another. 

R-C

This was not the wedding she was expecting. She’d come in an attempt to show Daenerys she wasn’t angry and what she got was Daenerys Targaryen showing her anger and her love. She offered the assassin revenge with a smile. Daenerys let her take their fingers and she savored every cut. Their whimpering and begging only made the work louder, but she never hesitated. Daenerys let her be who she was. Maybe that was No One, maybe it was Arya Stark or maybe it was someone in between. She didn’t know anymore and it didn’t matter. What she was positive of was just how lucky she was to have Daenerys. 

Her throat burned every time she tried to speak. Swallowing felt strange and the tight collar she wore to hide her markings reminded her far too much of the noose. She’d been working hard on the exercises the Maester gave her, but only when she was alone. She didn’t want anyone to see, or hear her choking and stammering like a child over the simplest of words. She needed to get her voice back quickly, she was already tired of carrying that fucking book around. 

Daenerys was with a Dothraki, discussing Kenning’s treatment. He’d chosen to spare his family a fiery death and called off the wedding just as Daenerys wanted. She really was rather ruthless and the assassin couldn’t deny her attraction. 

No wedding then?

She handed the book to Daenerys, open, one long finger pointing to the message that was for her. 

Daenerys smiled warmly and leaned in for a kiss. Her instincts were to back away, or to stay perfectly still, but she fought against them. She knew Daenerys wouldn’t hurt her. This wasn’t some sell-sword, slipping into her tent. This was Daenerys. Her eyes closed and instead of picturing what happened to her, she thought of the Queen. Daenerys’s smile, Daenerys’s eyes, her laugh, the gentle way she taught Amara. For some reason the Dragon loved her, and loving her back was the best decision of the Northern woman’s life. So, when they met Daenerys’s lips were soft and sweet, but hers were rough and demanding. Her tongue forced its way into Daenerys’s mouth, while she reached back and lost her hand in the silky hair. 

“Wow!” Daenerys exclaimed as she bent down to pick up the book that had been dropped when other things became more important. She flipped the pages one at a time until she found the right one. She smiled as she read the question again. She handed the book to her lover. “Oh, there will be a wedding Arya Stark and hopefully soon, just not today.”

She could feel the heat in her cheeks. Did she mean…? That couldn’t possibly mean… could it? When she looked to the Queen for aid she saw Daenerys resisting the urge to laugh. She couldn’t help but smile along, Daenerys’s laugh was priceless, even when it was at the killer’s expense. 

“We do need to discuss something else,” Daenerys said seriously as she took a seat on a large boulder. With her small hand, she patted the spot next to her, and like the obedient Wolf she was, she went. “I think we need to tell Sansa the truth, about you and me, about Amara all of it?”

Why?

Daenerys answered after a sigh. “The House of Black and White already knows the truth. Viserys knows the truth. We’ll continue to tell people your brother was the father, but I think Sansa deserves the whole story.”

She’ll hate me

As she slid the book toward Daenerys she knew it was true. Sansa would hate her once she heard. She had a baby and didn’t tell her, that was bad enough but then to take a Stark baby, the only one in their family since Rickon and give it away. To Sansa that would be unforgivable. She could already hear her sister’s words in her head. ‘Why not bring her to me in Winterfell?’

“What!? That’s impossible. Sansa could never hate you. I told you last night that she said to send her love. She’ll understand, you just need to tell her why you did it.”

She wouldn’t be telling Sansa anything. With a tightening of her muscles she made a sound, not quite a grunt and definitely not a word. 

Daenerys understood the message and took her hand. “You know what I mean. I’ll help you. Sansa will understand, I promise. She loves you and she adores Amara.” 

Where are they?

Although she’d never admit it, she was anxious to see her sister. She’d even acknowledge that she missed Tyrion a little while he was Kenning’s hostage. As for Amara, she was desperate to see her, but terrified of her reaction. She looked like a monster from a child’s nightmare, all scars, cuts and bruises. Even with Missandei’s help covering the worst of it, she was concerned. 

“They should be here any time,” Daenerys explained. “Once Sansa’s troops had Tyrion they were going back to the camp to get Sansa and Amara and then they’ll join us.”

R-C

They called for her in two different voices, in two different ways. “Arya!” Sansa gasped as she fought back tears. Her hand covered her mouth and she hunched over like she might fall. 

Next to her, holding Sansa’s other hand was Amara. She smiled widely and reached out for her birth mother. “Wolf!”

She looked to Daenerys for instruction, feeling adrift in her own body. “Go to them,” she said. “They love you, as I do.”

She loved her sister, truly she did, but she went to Amara first. The little girl released Sansa’s hand when she saw the assassin’s coming. She ran and tangled herself around her legs. The pain she felt was real, but well worth it. 

Daenerys rushed to where they stood. “Amara, remember what Sansa told you, you need to be gentle, Arya’s hurt.”

Amara looked at the injured woman with big, sad eyes. “Hurt? I hurt? Sorry!”

She wanted to talk, she even tried, she could feel the vibrations in her throat, but nothing came out. She was forced to just shake her head and hope her message was understood. Thankfully Daenerys came to her rescue. “Sweetie, Arya hurt her neck, so she can’t talk right now. She needs to write everything she wants to say in this book.” Daenerys showed her daughter the book they’d taken from the Maester. 

Once she had the book back she found a fresh page and began writing a message to Amara. Unlike her others, this one was longer than a handful of words. When she was finished she handed the book to Daenerys. 

“What’s it say?” Amara wondered as she bounced up and down in excitement. 

“It says, ‘Amara, it’s so good to see you. I missed you so much. Did you have a good time with Sansa?’”

“I good,” Amara announced as she took the book from Daenerys and passed it along. The message was clear – write more. “I miss you. Sansa’s fun.” 

Hearing Sansa’s name, she looked away from Amara and found her sister. She was standing a few feet away, hands at her sides, just watching. It reminded her of their mother, who used to stand on the balcony at Winterfell and do nothing but watch the children playing below. She couldn’t help but wonder what Sansa was seeing. 

Making sure she had her book with her, she walked in Sansa’s direction. Like Amara she didn’t wait. She ran and threw her arms around her. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she said as she hugged her lost sister. “I know you’re hurt.” As she stepped back she wiped a tear from under her eye. She took note of each of the new marks, the cuts, the scrapes, the burn. She’d seen them from afar, but the assassin knew up close was something else entirely. “You’re alright? He didn’t hurt you too badly?”

The concern was sweet, if not unnecessary. Like with Amara she found a new page for her discussion with Sansa. 

I’m fine. Kenning is in the dungeon. Thank you for helping Daenerys, for helping Amara. I missed you. How are things in Winterfell?

After Sansa read the note she chuckled. “I haven’t seen you in years and that’s what you ask me!? How are things in Winterfell?” She scoffed. “Things at home are fine, which you’d know if you ever visited.

She knew Sansa had a point. With the speed of a water dancer she snatched the book out of her sister’s hands and began writing frantically. She was aware of Daenerys’s presence but held the book out anyway. 

I’m sorry I didn’t visit, I’m not a very good sister. I’ll be better now. I’m not going back, I can’t, so I’m going to stay here. I’ll come back every year, I’ll bring Daenerys and Amara if you want. Or we can meet somewhere else, anywhere else. 

Sansa’s frown evaporated as she read the words. She looked to her sister and then the Queen. “You’re staying here?”

She knew then that Daenerys was right. Sansa deserved to know the truth. She had family in this world, more family than just her and she didn’t know it. That wasn’t fair. A quick glance at Daenerys and she knew her lover agreed. She was using her eyes to make her feelings perfectly clear. 

I’ll be staying with Daenerys and Amara. Wherever they go.

After giving Sansa the book she took hold of Daenerys’s hand, a wordless message about how serious she was. When she finished with the book Sansa dropped it carelessly in the dirt. She looked to Amara and found her playing with a Dothraki, chasing after the bare-chested warrior with her wooden sword. Taking swings at him. 

“She takes after her mother,” Daenerys said as she watched what Sansa did. 

Startled by the Queen’s closeness Sansa leaned away. “Y… you learned the sword too, your Grace?”

“I’m learning now, I meant Amara’s other mother.” Squeezing their joined hands, she lifted them up to draw Sansa’s attention to them. 

She wanted to say something, anything. She tried and a weak grunt was all she managed. 

“Her mother…” Sansa gasped. 

“I told you that when all this was finished, I’d give you answers, about your sister and about Amara. That time is now.”

For twenty minutes, the three of them stood, whispering together. Daenerys spoke, telling her how Amara came into her life and Sansa listened as though every word were vital. She did her part, adding to what Daenerys didn’t know, by writing messages in her book and passing them around. 

“She looked so familiar,” Sansa confessed as she looked at her niece with fresh eyes. “That first time I came to King’s Landing, when I met her, she reminded me so much of you.” 

“She reminds me of Arya everyday,” the Queen said leaning over for a kiss. The assassin obliged and lost in the sensations forgot her sister was watching. 

With an awkward cough Sansa cleared her throat. “Well, I was not expecting that.” 

“Sansa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out like that. I just got caught in the…”

She stopped speaking when her lover handed her the book again. She read the passage out loud. 

I love Daenerys and I love Amara. I don’t know how I got so lucky. Starks don’t want things, not anymore, if we try we’ll just end up disappointed. I was lost for so long and then I had Amara and I had something important to do. I had to give her a good life. Nothing mattered more. I left her with Daenerys and never thought I’d come back, but now I’m here and I don’t ever want to leave. I’ll stay for as long as she’ll let me. Amara needs me, as I need her, and she’ll need you too, just like I do.

“I have a niece. Gods, I have a niece. More family.” 

Sansa’s fragmented thoughts gave Daenerys time to lift up and close her teeth around the lobe of her lover’s ear. She tensed for a moment, feeling the heat of Daenerys’s mouth on her skin. When she spoke it vibrated through her, straight to her core. “Forever,” she said. “You’re mine forever.”

Politely excusing herself Daenerys went to check on Tyrion, leaving the sisters alone. Unexpectedly Sansa began laughing almost immediately. “You and the Queen,” she said between gasps for air. “And everyone thought I’d be the one married to a royal.”

Unable to argue with that, she put her arm across Sansa’s shoulders and laughed with her, or tried to at least. She was pleased when a small amount of sound was actually produced. 

R-C

Daenerys was with Tyrion, who in addition to enjoying his favorite wine was talking non-stop about Sansa Stark. “She led the men who rescued me. Did you know that? Did you know she was going to lead them? It was incredible. One moment I’m surrounded by three heavily armed, extremely unfriendly men and the next, Sansa’s offering them their lives in exchange for laying down their weapons. They refused and fought to the last of course, but she offered. It was wonderful.”

“Now that she knows the truth about Amara, I was thinking of asking her to stay in King’s Landing for a time. The North is stable and Sansa assures me its in capable hands. Maybe she can be of help to you in the Westerlands when you settle things for me there.”

Tyrion stopped drinking, a sign she had his full attention. “Your Grace?”

“With the Kennings removed, I’ll need a new Warden in the West. The Lord was right, there will be chaos. A lot of people will lay claim, and they’ll be fights to settle them. I don’t want that. You’re a Lannister, the people will listen to you. You will have command of the Unsullied. They’ll keep the peace until you can find me a suitable warden.”

“A suitable warden?”

“Tyrion Lannister, you’re the Hand of the Queen. I will not waste your skills in the West, when you belong here. You’ll remain in Kayce only long enough to quell any thoughts of rebellion and install a new house to power. Once that is done you’re to return here, where you will definitely be needed.”

He looked uncertain, his shrewd eyes bouncing from one item to the next before moving on. “Is that wise? What about my duties here?”

“Work quickly,” she urged him with a smile. “With Sansa’s help you can surely pick a new warden in a few weeks. Think of it as a vacation”

“Your Grace, I’m needed here.” After the words were out, he paled a bit. “Aren’t I?”

She shook her head as she chuckled. “You are needed, which is why I’ll send ravens West everyday to seek your council, likely more than one.”

He finally returned to his wine. “If this is what you think is best.” His eyes moved to Sansa and Daenerys’s followed. “I’ll just have to endure.”

“Khaleesi,” Jorah said as he appeared behind them. 

Daenerys turned. “Is there trouble with the prisoners?” she asked, fearing what would happen if Kenning and Viserys were free. 

“They are in the dungeons,” he assured her and she instantly relaxed. Her entire body shook with relief. “There is a man at the perimeter. He wishes to meet the Dragon Queen.” 

She laid a hand on Tyrion’s shoulder. “Don’t unpack your things just yet,” she teased. “Go see Sansa, I bet she’s thirsty too.” 

“Interesting wedding,” Jorah commented as they walked together. “Were you ever planning to marry him?”

“I was,” Daenerys admitted. “Until I saw and heard about what he’d done to Arya, what he allowed others to do. I knew then that that man could never be King.” 

“Why not kill him in the castle? Why the show?” Jorah asked with a shake of his head. 

“Fewer witnesses. After today only a handful of people alive will know what happened here, but if I’d murdered the Kennings in the Red Keep, word would cross the Realm as fast as ravens could fly. Besides, I gave him my word. I said no harm would come to him in the keep, and none did. That’s why the wedding was out here. I needed his whole family, so I made sure they were invited.” 

“You should have told me. It’s my job to protect you and that’s rather difficult when you don’t tell me what you’re planning.”

“Your right,” she agreed. She kissed his cheek and quickly backed away. She didn’t want to give him any reason to get the wrong idea. 

Just as Jorah said the Dothraki were holding an elderly man at the border to the would-be wedding. She waved him through. He walked slow, with the aid of a stick. She waited until he reached her, then she fell in step beside him, leading him toward the prepared food that would likely be going to waste. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, your Grace. I’m very thankful, for all you’ve done. So thankful that I’m almost sorry.”

Daenerys didn’t understand. She stopped moving. “Sorry for what?”

Behind her she heard the loud crack as a branch snapped off a tree. She looked back and saw Arya frantically waving her arms. It was faint, halted and flawed, her throat obviously raw from disuse, but still Daenerys heard it, her name. It was called out in a voice she thought she’d never hear again. It may have sounded ragged to others, but to Daenerys it was music. 

R-C

She could feel him there. His presence hung over what should have been a happy occasion like a poison cloud. She studied each guest, every guard, every passer-by. She was on edge, just waiting for someone to remove their face and reveal the truth. 

She noticed it too late. Jorah leading Daenerys across the grounds, and then Daenerys walking back, past the spot where she’d gathered Kenning fingers and toward the tent that held the food, an old man at her side. She attempted to scream but failed. Frustrated she looked around for something that would draw attention. With nothing more than a rock to work with she jumped up and hung from a damaged branch. Using all her weight she swung back and forth. Finally, it began to give and she worked even faster. When it finally broke she fell to the ground hard and it reminded her of all the times she’d been hung. The memories raced in her mind. She couldn’t think about that now. Daenerys was in trouble. 

As they got closer to the tent, she knew they were getting closer to the killing. She couldn’t let that happen. Opening her mouth wide, she filled her lungs and said a prayer to the Old Gods. “Daenerys,” she yelled. 

Proud of herself, she didn’t know if she’d been loud enough until she saw Daenerys jump away from the older man. Jorah, like a good knight, put himself between them. She couldn’t let him fight for her. This was her battle. 

Shrugging off his robe, Jaqen revealed the clothes and weapons underneath. While everyone waited to see his next move, he changed his face back to the one she met years before. “Girl, it’s time.”

She didn’t hesitate, leaving her book on the rocks she removed the bloody dagger from its sheath. “Arya don’t!” Daenerys cried. 

“Arya!” Sansa yelled from further away. 

It was hard to ignore them, especially when they worked together like that, but she had to. This needed to end. She stopped at Daenerys’s side and gave her a quick kiss. That yell of hers had brought nothing but pain in her throat, but she tried again anyway. “L…lo…lo…”

Daenerys put a hand on her cheek and smiled. “I love you too. You don’t need to do this. The guards…”

She shook her head. 

“I was nice to a girl,” he said as he drew his sword. “I could have killed you hours ago, but I did not. I let you live, kiss your woman, see your sister, hug your daughter.” He stepped forward and pressed his sword into the dirt, burying the first two inches. “Come, kneel before me and I shall make it quick and painless. Also, I swear on my honor that I will not harm anyone here today, not ever.”

She hated to admit it, but that was a tempting offer. She was marked for death. The Many Faced God would eventually claim her, as was his right. If it wasn’t Jaqen it would be someone. They would keep coming and innocent people, people she loved could be hurt. She didn’t want that. That was her worst fear. 

The dagger she’d been holding ready, lowered. She took a step forward and then another. “Damn it Arya Stark, don’t you dare!” Daenerys shouted from the background. “Fight! He kidnapped our daughter, damn it, kill him!”

Jaqen laughed as her dagger came up again. “You think you can beat me, with that? A girl has forgotten herself. You’re in no shape to fight.” He held out a hand and gestured to the watchers. “Don’t make them see this. I will make it quick.”

She knew he was right, even as she attacked. From the time she took her first swing at his face, she knew she couldn’t win and she knew she had to win. If she didn’t everyone she loved would be vulnerable to the House of Black and White, and to Jaqen. She knew what he was capable of and she wanted him away from her family. 

They danced together, as they had so many other times. This wasn’t training though. This was real. He was trying to kill her, and she him. It reminded her of their only other real fight. In the heart of the Temple she delivered the face of the assassin he sent to kill her. He claimed she was truly No One and she attacked him. They fought for over an hour, until she ran out of energy. Her fury scarred him, on his shoulder and under his arm. He in return gave her four more scars of her own. 

That night she didn’t win, but she was fighting only for herself. This time there was more at sake. Now there was Daenerys, Amara and Sansa. Even injured she hoped that difference would be enough. 

Her legs were too weak. She couldn’t keep up. The dagger was a short, quick weapon meant for sudden strikes and rapid escapes. She couldn’t escape on legs that could barely support her. She thought of borrowing Jorah’s sword, but knew it would be fruitless. Her arms were as weak as her legs and lifting such a thing, let alone swinging it with precision was beyond her capabilities. 

Each time he struck her, she heard Daenerys gasp. Some wanted to interfere but none would. The Dothraki knew the sanctity of a fight. It wouldn’t be over until one of them was dead. She knew it was only a matter of time. It would be her. 

Ducking under a strike that would have removed her head, she slipped past him, cutting him across the stomach as she went. She almost got away, but he took a wild, angry swing with his sword and managed to clip her in the back of the leg. 

As she fell, every muscle in her body begged her to stop. She tried to struggle, to work her way back to her feet, but the shadow looming over her would make that unlikely. Her eyes closed and she surrendered to it. Death. Valar Morghulis. She’d managed to keep it at bay for years but now it caught her. She wasn’t ready. Thanks to Amara and Daenerys, she didn’t think she ever would be, but she was okay. 

“Is a girl ready then?” he asked, almost kindly. 

She opened her eyes and saw not only Jaqen and his sword, but behind him, the shape of a dragon drew closer. One of Daenerys’s children was coming home. The assassin smiled then, knowing that the dragon would keep them all safe after she was gone. 

When he raised his sword, she waited for it. Before he could thrust it, Daenerys was there, standing beside her beaten lover. “Do you know who I am? I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and I demand you stop this at once. This woman is under my protection.”

“The Many Faced God names her. He answers to no one, not Kings or Queens.”

Daenerys’s voice became more desperate. “What do you want? Name your price? I can give you anything you desire.”

Unmoved Jaqen looked at his prey. “I only want to serve my God and He requires her death.” 

“You can’t have her,” Daenerys screamed, frantic now. “She doesn’t belong to you anymore. She doesn’t belong to your God. She’s mine!”

Touched as she was by the gesture she knew she had to stop this before one of them did something that couldn’t be forgiven. She put a bloody hand on Daenerys’s bare arm, smearing red across the pale skin. “G..g..” she stuttered. Words failing, she waved dramatically, urging her to move. 

“She wants you to go and you should listen. You don’t need to watch, but I promise she will feel little pain.” 

Behind his back Jaqen had no idea a dragon had arrived. She could see now it was Rhaegal, the one she’d managed to fly all the way to Braavos and back. The one who saved her in the Temple. She wondered if he could save her again now. It wasn’t much of a plan. If she ordered Jaqen burned, the flames would devour him and her alike, since they were so close. Daenerys would be safe, her Dragon blood would protect her. Daenerys, Amara and Sansa would be safe for the immediate future at least. She could die with that. That would be a good end. 

“Dr… Dr… “ she tried weakly. Her throat burned but she suspected it was little compared to the fire that awaited her if she could only speak. 

“What was that girl? Something to say?” he jested. 

Daenerys knelt down beside her. Glaring up at Jaqen, looking completely unafraid the assassin knew she was in a love deeper than she ever thought possible. “She’s trying. Give her the dignity of a final word at least.” 

“If she makes it quick.”

“What baby?” Daenerys whispered. “What are you trying to say? Do you want me to get your book?” She shook her head quickly. “Do you want me to call the guards? They call kill him for you.”

Standing only a foot away the killer scoffed at the notion he could be defeated. Again, she shook her head. After a deep breath, she made another attempt. “Drac… Draca…”

She knew the moment Daenerys understood. Light flickered in her eyes and she followed the killer’s gaze to the air where Rhaegal waited. “Do you know the Valyrian word for dragon-fire Jaqen?”

Unamused by the question he raised his sword until it was in line with his victim’s throat. “Of course, I do.”

“Me too,” Daenerys said with a smirk. “Dracarys!”

As was becoming common now, she waited for her death. This time she expected to feel the fire and pain she delivered to so many others, at Dreadfort, the barracks in Kayce. She deserved this, she knew. 

When Jaqen screamed she knew her turn was next. She could feel the heat and although she recoiled away from it, there was no escape. 

At the last moment Daenerys moved between the assassins and laid herself over her lover’s battered body. She straddled the folded legs, pressing herself down on the Northern woman entirely, covering as much of her as she could. Daenerys protected the important parts, her face, her head, and her chest, but she wasn’t big enough to stop it all. The flames nipped at her boots, and burned her legs. Her right arm got a lick when it was left partially exposed. Her cries of pain were muffled by Daenerys’s chest and she squirmed under her as the flames bit. “Shh, I got you. I got you,” she repeated. 

R-C

Back in the keep the celebration that was supposed to be for the wedding, was now being held to honor their success. Daenerys felt horrible about Arya’s injuries. She was cut several times during her fight with Jaqen, and she made it worse by burning her. Each time she tried to apologize Arya would shake her head and smile before she walked away. It was really rather annoying. 

Now, Amara was being passed between Sansa and Arya, laughing the whole time as she was fed from one plate or another. Nymeria who had aided the Northern troops in protecting Amara was at her rightful post, asleep at the Princess’s feet. The only one missing was Grey Worm, he was leading the Unsullied and now ruling Kayce until an acceptable leader could be located. 

Looking to Arya she knew how hard it was to be away from the person, or people you love the most. After all Missandei had done, she didn’t want that for her friend. “Do you miss him?” she asked as Missandei kept her eyes on Amara. 

“Who, your Grace?”

“Don’t be daft, you know I mean Grey Worm. Do you miss him when he isn’t here?”

“Of course, but he sent word. He and the Unsullied are holding Kayce. All is well.” 

“I’m glad.” She paused and then got straight to the point. “You should go then.”

“Go?”

“I’m sending Tyrion to Kayce to find a warden. I believe he intends to ask Lady Stark to join him. You should go along.” Missandei’s smile assured her she’d made a wise decision. “Grey Worm is likely lonely without your company,” she teased. 

“Thank you, your Grace. I won’t stay gone for long, you have my word, just a quick visit and then I’ll be back. I’m sure you’ll have need of me.” 

She kissed her friend’s cheek. “There will always be more work Missandei, more trouble, more problems to solve, criminals, nobles, warriors or thieves, it never ends. We need to make time to be with the people we love. That’s what’s important.” 

As the words left her lips she looked to Arya and saw Amara propped up on her shoulders, trying to catch bits of food her mother was throwing her. Nearby Tyrion had pulled Sansa away, and as they talked together it didn’t escape Daenerys’s notice that they were holding hands as well. 

“You should take your own advice, my Queen,” Missandei said as she looked suggestively toward Arya. 

Daenerys smiled and took the first step toward her waiting family. “You’re right. That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

R-C

It was three days later before Daenerys came down from her blissful high and remembered about Viserys and Kenning in the dungeon. Viserys was near death already. He’d taken a beating from the Dothraki after the wedding and could barely stand. Daenerys ordered him taken to the Dragon courtyard and left there. Kenning she had brought a balcony that overlooked the yard. They could clearly see Viserys’s body lying unmoving on the grass while the dragons circled overhead. 

Arya stood at her side, where Daenerys wanted her to remain forever. “W…why have you brought me here? Your Grace, please, have mercy. I’ll join my family across the sea, you’ll never hear my name nor see my face again,” he begged. “Just let me go.” 

Feeling confident, Daenerys was in the mood for a little sport. “What do you think love? Should we spare this pitiful man?”

Both Daenerys and James looked to Arya but the woman remained stoic. “Oh, that’s right, Arya can’t answer me, because you hung her over and over again.” She grabbed one of the links binding his wrists together and pulled until he was on his knees before her. “I think Arya deserves justice.”

“Your Grace, please. She lives. It wouldn’t be justice to kill me. I didn’t kill her.”

Grabbing the front of his soiled shirt she pulled him to his feet. “That is a matter you and I could debate for centuries I’m sure. Don’t worry, Lord Kenning,” she said as she dusted off some of the dirt from his clothes. “I won’t be the one deciding your fate. That’ll be up to Drogon and the others.”

Wild eyes searched the room. “W…who’s Drogon.”

Daenerys stepped back and Arya moved forward. Without delay she pushed Kenning backward off the balcony and down to the courtyard. His body hit with a thud, just seconds before all three dragons came to land. 

“And that takes care of that.”

Inside the room, Amara and Missandei were playing. Missandei had been tasked with keeping Amara busy. It was a job she was happy to take since she said she’d miss the girl terribly when she left for the West in the morning. 

Arya went straight for the book that was her only method of communication. 

We still need to be careful. The House of Black and White will send others.

We’ll deal with them together,” she said as she set the book down, “like a family.”

After a quick kiss Amara appeared next to them, poking at Arya with the tip of her wooden sword. “More,” 

“Amara!” Daenerys reprimanded. 

“More please,” she said, giving Arya another helpful nudge. 

“Someone wants more lessons, I think,” Missandei explained. “She was asking me earlier.” 

She laughed at the idea of Missandei teaching Amara to swing a sword. “I would have enjoyed seeing that.” 

Missandei smiled. “I told her she needed to wait until her mothers returned.” 

Daenerys was going to bend down, but Arya picked Amara up instead. “Sweetie, Arya can’t talk right now remember? She can’t teach you, but I bet if you’re good she will when she gets her voice back.” 

Handing Amara off to Daenerys, Arya picked up the book and began writing on a new page. Her usually uneven and messy letters were clear and perfectly formed this time. The message was simple and Daenerys read it, smiled and passed it along to their girl. 

“Your mama says, ‘Stick’em with the pointy end.’ 

 

R-C  
One Year Later:

R-C

Daenerys smiled as she fluttered around the room, unable to keep still. Outside the thick window she watched snow fall and it seemed only fitting. She was in the North after all. 

Being in Winterfell, she learned a lot. Arya took her down to the crypt and spoke about each member of her family resting there. Tyrion was nervous about the trip, but the Queen in the North assured his safety. Likely because she wanted him to share her bed. They’d been together since she sent them to settle the West and even when separated by miles, they sent letters almost every day. It really was sweet. Although they spoke of a wedding, neither seemed particularly eager one way or the other. 

Nearly everyone she cared about was in one place. She left only Jorah behind in King’s Landing and he willingly obeyed. She knew as surely as he did, that he didn’t want to be present for this. She didn’t mind his absence as much as she should have. 

“Are you nervous this time?” Missandei asked as she followed after the Queen attempting to make adjustments to her dress. 

The dress she’d chosen matched the snow. The hem nearly dragged on the floor, but the colors were crisp and bright. From her right shoulder to her left hip was a fire red sash, that added color. Daenerys loved it from the first moment she saw it, so Arya insist she have it. She wore a three-headed dragon necklace, and a matching bracelet to complete the outfit. 

“Is it obvious?” 

“Only a little,” Missandei replied, too quickly for Daenerys’s liking. “Sit,” she suggested, moving a chair in front of the mirror. 

“It’s nice here. I can see why Arya likes it.”

“It’s cold,” Missandei complained. 

Through the mirror she gave her friend a hard stare. Missandei kept working to style her hair, even as she shrugged. “It has a certain beauty, even if you need three layers of clothes just to go outside and see it.”

R-C

They were being married under the Weirwood tree. Arya said the place was special to her, and to her father so Daenerys agreed immediately when it was suggested they might wed there. 

Sansa was a great host, spoiling her friends from King’s Landing and embarrassing her sister with stories from their childhood. Daenerys hung on every word and Amara laughed along, even when she didn’t understand. 

She was glad her hands were empty when she took it all in, if she’d been carrying anything she would have dropped it. Amara was there, happily bouncing on her toes as she waited. “Mama, you here finally!”

She bent down and kissed the tip of her daughter’s nose. Amara was wearing a reverse of her mother’s dress. Hers was red, with a white sash and she looked beautiful and very grown up. “You look gorgeous baby. Do you like your dress?”

“Uh-huh, Sansa say I look like a princess.” 

“You are a princess. Ready to go? Arya’s waiting for us.”

On her way to the tree she almost fell no fewer than five times. She heard Amara and Missandei giggling together about her misfortune but she didn’t mind. How could she be expected to focus on the ground, when she had Arya waiting in front of her. 

The woman who would be her Queen stood there, waiting patiently. She smiled brightly and Daenerys even thought she saw a wink the second time she almost tripped. Arya looked exquisite, wearing a simple pair of black pants and a red shirt that matched Daenerys’s sash. She looked dashing and Daenerys was already considering ways to sneak away with her wife. 

R-C

Why hadn’t she done this sooner. She should have. If she’d known Daenerys would look like that, she would have. She was speechless and that rarely happened since she got her voice back. It had taken months and too many meetings with the Maester but she could now speak freely. It still hurt sometimes, and the scars remain as a permanent reminder, but she could tell Daenerys and Amara she loved them and that was plenty. 

Sansa stood behind her, looking content and smug, like she had a secret. “Ready for this little sister?”

She peeled her eyes off Daenerys, long enough to catch Sansa’s eye. “So fucking ready.”

When Amara reached her, she bent down and kissed the girl. “You look so pretty sweetheart. Go see your Aunt Sansa now.” 

Happy to spend any time with Sansa that she could, Amara went gladly. 

“Arya Stark,” her favorite voice said. 

Grey eyes met violet and held them. “Your Grace, you look stunning.”

With a tilt of her head and the curl of her lips she took Arya’s offered arm. “You look rather dashing yourself. Shall we get married?”

Arya’s eyes flashed to their daughter, who was watching closely with a huge grin. She couldn’t believe this was her life. Daenerys, Amara, even Sansa. She never dreamed any of this would be possible for her. She’d been fighting wars for as long as she could remember. From the day her father died, until the day Jaqen died, there was always more names on her list, more people to kill, and more people who wanted her to kill. Now for the first time she was attempting to live in peace. It was awkward and slightly boring but she’d taken a liking to it. When trouble came, she’d be ready, but in the meantime, she was content being a mother, a wife and a Queen. 

She looked at Daenerys and tried to memorize every detail. “Yes, let’s.”

R-C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: That’s it ladies and gentleman. At least for the time being. First things first, I apologize for the incredibly long chapter, but it made more sense to just finish it all at once. 
> 
> This originally started in my head as one-shot of Arya giving up her baby to Daenerys, but then I kept writing and once I posted it the feedback was so encouraging. Thank you for that. 
> 
> I’m not sure if a sequel is going to happen, but I will admit, I’m considering it. Amara is too much fun to write, and I can’t help but wonder what would happen when she’s a teenager and really old enough to cause trouble. So that might get written eventually, but no promises. 
> 
> Another Arya/Daenerys story is already stuck in my head, so its very possible that I could start that soon. Health permitting. 
> 
> If you read all this, thank you. I appreciate it and I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Russell Craig.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Anything you recognize or like probably belongs to someone else. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Russell Craig.


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